Rise, Crusade Gundam!
by Majin Vivi
Summary: 20 years after the series, NeoEngland reveals it's first fighter since the first Devil Gundam incident. UPDATE: The Shuffle Alliance return! Does the War Gundam even stand a chance?
1. VS NeoRomania's Gundam Eidolon

The rain always came down hard in London. It seemed somewhat appropriate, given the nature of the day's upcoming event.

The rain splashed magnificently off of the many historical buildings, many having come from before the establishment of the Gundam Fight, and designed to last. Nowadays, no building was expected to last any longer than four years, and was designed as such.

The year was F.C 80, and the 18th Gundam Fight had begun. Scant weeks earlier, the fight had begun with the defeat of Neo-Holland's Nether Gundam MkIV by the Tsar Gundam of Neo-Russia. Once the match had been announced, few could doubt the outcome; Neo-Holland's tactics had changed little in the past twenty years, and never to any degree of success. By this battle in London, the Gundam Fight was well underway, but this was the first to occur in Neo-England.

Neo-England held an unusual history with the Gundam Fight. It's first success came from Graham Chapman in the Britain Gundam, who then went on to win two more championships, giving Neo-England the longest continuous reign over the colonies. However, things turned for the worse in the 12th Gundam fight, following a defeat by Master Asia, in Neo-Hong Kong's Kowloon Gundam. The following tournament heralded the appearance of the John Bull Gundam, again piloted by Chapman, but unfortunately the nation's pride was blotched due to Chapman's allegiance to the Devil Gundam, and ultimately, Neo-England failed to produce a Gundam Fighter for two decades following, as if in shame.

The rain continued. Mark Anderson felt each drop as it landed on his mobile fighter. He shut his eyes, and instinctively felt each and every drop that hit his mech. The time had almost come. His first battle in the Gundam Fight. His first battle to regain the honour of Neo-England. His fighter, the Crusade Gundam, stood out sorely in the bleak atmosphere generated by the weather. A medium sized, but imposing warrior, it carried a small shield on its left arm, and was curiously without weapon on the right arm. It was emblazoned in the national flag of Neo-England, a red cross on a white background. It was supposedly a symbol of an ancient warrior, who stood for justice or something like that. Mark didn't care. He had little love for the Gundam Fight anyway. He'd learned in school how it had been the cause of much of the destruction on earth.

He'd only reached 20 years of age, yet had lived through two separate incidents when all life on earth came under serious threat. Admittedly, he was only just born when the first Devil Gundam incident of FC60 occurred, but he experienced the terror with the beast's return in FC 73. Death nearly became a certainty.

But that was seven years ago. Far from the frightened young boy, this young man who stood ready for action had hardened his mind to such things. Instead, victory over his opponent was what mattered now. For the moment.

Alarms sounded in every direction, and the arena's shield soon rose. Following FC 73, rather than the free-roaming destruction of previous Survival Elevens, all proposed Gundam fights were to take place in arenas similar to those used by the host country during the Final Battle. Soon, the two fighters were alone together.

Across the arena stood his opponent. Neo-Romania's Gundam Eidolon. Draped in black wings, as if a cloak, it resembled the mythic vampire of yore. This image was enhanced by the blood red colour of the Gundam's 'beard', as if sanguine liquid was dripping from its mouth. Inside, a broad-shouldered man of imposing stature crossed his arms over his chest. His skin was pale, which made his jet black hair all the more striking. On his face was an expression that screamed confidence.

In contrast, Mark seemed far less deserving of being called 'Gundam fighter'. His body was smaller, but his muscles were no less developed because of this. His floppy brown hair was tied back for the moment, to prevent it getting in the way during the match. His breathing was also visibly heavy, signifying how the pressure was getting to him.

"Are you read, Vlad? " Mark clenched his fists, in anticipation.

"Of course, Mr Anderson." His thick, low voice seemed to cut through treacle as each word came out.

"In that case...GUNDAM FIGHT!"

"READY!"

"GOOOOOOOO!"

The two mech dashed forward, interlocking fists in an almighty clash. In terms of strength, the two were evenly matched. Sparks flew as the struggle began, neither seeming to be able to get one up on the other. Their strength being even, Vlad and Mark soon realised this would be a battle of skill. This suited them both.

Both leapt back, and paused momentarily, as if planning their next move. Mark made his action the first. He withdrew a lance from a compartment in the Gundam's leg, and extending its length and range via a special mechanism. Swirling it above the head, he held it in one hand behind the body, and pointed a palm towards his opponent. As if in response, the Gundam Eidolon's wings instantly spread out, revealing the deep purple body underneath, a striking combination with the black colour scheme of the wings. The chest plate began to glow red, and Mark could hear Vlad's booming, low voice.

"An impressive lance. But that won't help, " Vlad sneered. Gundam Eidolon lurched forwards, quickly moving into a full-blown charge. Time seemed to halt for Mark at this point: What now? What tactic could halt this mad charge, and secure victory for Neo-England? He shook his head at such a thought. A victory for himself, he swiftly corrected.

The Gundam's charge was powerful, yet seemingly aimless. And here the weakness was. Mark swerved to avoid the attack, but soon found himself on the receiving end of one of the wings; evidently more than a mere decoration, he quickly realised. The force of the wings was enough to knock him to the ground. Before he could get up, the Gundam Eidolon suddenly appeared, hovering above the fighter.

"Honestly, to have fallen for such an obvious ploy. Is this the extent of your pathetic country's attempt to reclaim its glory days? "One of the wings flew down and stopped before the neck section of the mecha. The slightest force would behead the Crusade Gundam, and thereby result in instant elimination from the tournament. Sweat dripped from Mark's brow as he realised the intensity of this situation. He reviewed his remaining weapons; his lance had been knocked from his grasp by the wing, and his shield could do little to help at this point. Then he heard that same mocking laughter once more.

"Anderson, I feel almost embarrassed to have to prove the new weakness of Neo-England to the world. 20 years, and their new secret weapon is nothing other than a mewling brat. Face it, kid. You're not Gentle Chapman, and you never will be." These words set something off in Mark's mind. Rage. Humiliation. And a sense of failure, to himself. All these feelings conflicted in his head. He could feel his heart-beat increase. His breathing became heavier. Then, as if the pressure had gotten to him, he started to laugh. Vlad raised an eyebrow, in curiosity.

That was all the time needed. Using this sudden hesitation to his advantage, Mark managed to grapple the wing with both arms, and tore the offending point off. Hearing Vlad's screams, he felt rejuvenated and quickly leapt to his feet. He could hear the Neo-England crew yelling for him to finish it off.

Mark shut his eyes. Each muscle in his body tensed up, and he moved his arms in straight motions. One vertical line down. Another across. In the MTS, this motion became a cross, one which was grabbed by Mark, in preparation for his attack.

"So Vlad. When it comes down to it, you're nothing but talk. "The cross materialised in the Gundam's hands, blazing red, and exuding pure energy. He swirled around his body, leaving a blazing streak of force as it cut through the air. Holding the weapon in one hand, the Gundam thrust forward with incredible speed, and grappled the opponent with the other. Holding the Gundam Eidolon back with the free hand, Mark raised the cross high.

"Impossible! A runt such as yourself... "Vlad spluttered. He was losing his previous self-control, and as a result his fighting skills became lacking. Mark simply laughed in response.

"Take this! The ultimate weapon of Neo-England! GEORGE'S CROSS! "He thrust the weapon down with all of his might, and managed to shear off Vlad's fighter's arm. Hearing the screams of pain coming from his opponent, Mark knew his chance to win was now. Quickly, the cross was placed against the 'neck' of the Gundam Eidolon. "Well, shall we end this?"

Vlad, now regaining his composure, calmly smiled. "You should take a look behind you, brat." Mark turned around, only to see the same wings he had torn off only moments prior now floating behind. Their points remained sharp, and poised ready to strike, and decapitate his Gundam.

"What? How is that possible? "

"Watch your mouth, boy. The slightest twitch will send those wings flying through your miniscule frame. Likewise, your cross will slice my head clean off at that point. "Vlad chuckled." This is quite the stalemate. Tell me, would you like to accept a draw? "

Mark hung his head low. He'd failed. Or at least, he had in the eyes of his country.

"...damn."


	2. Celebrations and challenges

"It was a pleasure, Mark. Our fight was something to remember. I'll look forward to our duel in the finals. "Vlad's handshake was firm, but exuded warmth. Despite his somewhat evil exterior, Vlad was genuinely a good man, someone who Mark would be proud to call 'friend'.

"The pleasure's all mine, Vlad." Mark responded, smiling. "Next time, the outcome will be different."

"You're right." Vlad grinned. His grin was one of the kind in which both ends of the mouth appeared to reach the ears as they curved up. "I'll crush you in a matter of seconds next time." Mark laughed in response.

"Oh yeah? So how come you let your arm get cut off by the cross so easily then? "

"A mere bagatelle. It was all a ploy to drop your defences. "The pair both started laughing heartily following this remark. Vlad noticed the attentions of his crew, and decided it would be time to leave. "Well Mark, I shall see you soon. Try not to get defeated. That's my prerogative."

"Good luck, Vlad. And don't worry, if I could fight a loser like you to a standstill, what chance does the rest of the world have?" Mark waved goodbye to Vlad, and then turned around, to be greeted by his crew. And the anger of General Kitchener.

"Just typical." Kitchener growled. "We spend all that money on a training regime for this kid, when we already have a perfectly good fighter here..."

"Ah, quit your spluttering, general..." Mark shook his head. He turned to an older man, who carried the look of authority about his person. His black blazer and expensive clothing in general implied a position of authority, such as a member of the Neo-England parliament. Such a guess wouldn't be far off: This man was the Prime Minister. "Sir, what do you think of my performance?"

"Mark, you performed magnificently out there. It doesn't matter that you didn't win; at least you didn't lose. Wouldn't you agree, General?" Kitchener glared at Mark in response.

"It's funny; you always taught me the best kind of battle is the one you could walk away from, general." A young man, roughly Mark's age stepped forward, and put a hand on Mark's shoulder. "Personally, I think Mark's battle was pretty damn good. From what I researched of Vlad, he wasn't to be taken lightly. He smashed Neo-Iceland's Geyser Gundam in 2 minutes, and their fighter was a pro." Mark looked back, and caught eyes with this newcomer. He instantly felt more at ease by this point.

This new arrival was Graham Dunne, Neo-England's strategist. As the top cadet of Neo-England's space force, his battle skills were invaluable in working out just how Crusade Gundam should fight. Coincidentally, he and Mark had been fast friends since childhood. Although, upon finishing secondary school, the pair had chosen different paths in life, their friendship remained constant. Graham's success in the military echoed Mark's success at university, and it came as little surprise the pair were chosen to be on Neo-England's crew, considering their links to the leaders of the country; General Kitchener viewed Graham with special favour, and doted upon him as the son he never had, while Prime Minister Barclay treated Mark as his own flesh and blood. It was this relationship that got Mark chosen as Neo-England's next Gundam Fighter. Originally, Graham was scheduled to pilot the Crusade Gundam, which was itself designed by Mark, due to his excellence in the army. However, Barclay noticed how deeply Mark seemed to care about the Crusade Gundam, and saw Mark's soul in the machine. In addition, Graham didn't appear to desire the position of Gundam Fighter much. However, Kitchener, by this point, had become overly excited about the upcoming Gundam Fight. Hence, he was suitably displeased once Barclay had asked Mark to be the next Gundam Fighter.

This announcement was a huge shock to everyone. Mark had no prior fighting experience, and could hardly be described as fighter material. Also, Mark hardly desired the position. Kitchener, too, became incensed, and argued earnestly for Graham to be the only option. However, the Prime Minister's decision was final. Graham, who had hardly enjoyed the prospect of being the next fighter, secretly hoped that Mark would agree. Finally, Mark himself could hardly care about the Gundam Fight; the only reason he took the job of designing the Crusade Gundam was to earn enough money and prestige so he could get any job he desired. He hated the Gundam Fight, as it was responsible for Earth rebels resurrecting the Devil Gundam seven years ago, and setting it loose in the colonies. Even though the Shuffle Alliance had defeated it before it could cause too much damage, it had wreaked dreadful damage in the colonies of Neo-England, Neo-France, and Neo-America. And to his family.

Mark lost his parents, and his younger brother, to a Gundam Head that had run free in his neighbourhood. Many families had lost loved ones, and his was no exception. Orphaned, and with no place to go, his prospects were dangerously bad. However, Prime Minister Barclay personally toured the colony, and adopted every orphan. With his help, and influence, each child managed to find new families, and got a second chance at life. Mark, on the other hand, showed no interest in being re-homed. The memories of his late family clung tight to his heart, and Barclay realised this. Hence, he took him in as his own flesh and blood, and the pair soon grew to love each other as father and son.

Because of this bond, Mark knew he couldn't refuse. He didn't like it, but he owed it to the man who cared for him when no others would. Also, he knew of Graham's apathy towards his enforced position, and he despised seeing his best friend under such stress. Finally, he just plain didn't like General Kitchener. His over-sized moustache and general pomposity made him appear comical, and he also possessed a hint of jealousy towards the amount of praise Graham had laid upon him. Of course, he wouldn't admit that.

It was later on that evening, and the entire Neo-England crew gathered at Barclay's home for a celebratory dinner. As well as General Kitchener and Graham, the crew consisted of technician Andy Yeoman, Doctor Sandra Bates, and the mascot, a small, spherical robot called 'Haro'. The crew all got on well together, and a great feeling of camaraderie could be sensed should one be around the crew and Mark is together.

The Prime Minister's home was a sight to behold. Furnished with the work of the finest carpenters of Earth, it was clearly the residence of somebody who had money in abundance. The tableware, as noted by the guests, was crafted in the finest silver. Evidently, this was the home of kings in times past.

"Well, it would appear our hopes have paid off, eh Mark?" Barclay nudged Mark with his elbow, and winked. Mark, in the middle of a mouthful of steak, nodded silently. He didn't necessarily agree. He just felt it'd be better to let Barclay think that the two years of intensive training had been worth it. Certainly, his fighting skills and strength had increased a hundredfold, but something within told him it hadn't made much of a difference. I should've beaten Vlad, he thought angrily. This phrase hung heavily in his head, and he couldn't rid it from his mind. This intense concentration was broken by the robotic squealing of Haro...

"Haro! Haro!"

"What is it, Haro?"

"Receiving transmission from Neo-France, Mark!" This announcement managed to silence the entire room. Haro turned, and pointed towards a large video-screen which was situated at the head of the room. The screen turned on, and revealed a man in his forties, with a delicate composure, and dressed in the royal clothing of Neo-France. Mark got up, and pointed at the screen, visibly stunned.

"Greetings, dignitaries of Neo-England. I apologise for interrupting your meal, but one cannot forget the inevitable time differences between our two nations..." The man chuckled slightly. Barclay smiled in return.

"Tell me, sir, what business do you have?"

"Forgive my clumsy manners; I have yet to introduce myself. I am King George De Sand of Neo-France. I am here to invite your Crusade Gundam against my fighter. Do you accept?" Mark sat down, and grinned.

"Your majesty, it would be a pleasure to battle you."

"Wonderful. I shall see you tomorrow then." The screen turned off, and all gathered looked about at each other. It hadn't been two days, and their fighter had received two challenges. Was this attention good...or would it prove harmful?

"Well, being challenged by a member of the Shuffle Alliance, no less. Do you think you can handle him, Mark?" Barclay again nudged him with his elbow. Mark simply shrugged his shoulders in response.

"Well, I think you're getting ideas above your station." Kitchener growled. "If you think you could stop him, where you couldn't defeat a loser like Vlad, then you're mistaken." Graham cleared his throat, halting the diatribe.

"You all seem to be forgetting one thing; he said, 'against my fighter'. Who says you're going to be fighting him?"

And then there was silence.


	3. Sins of the Father

Mark wiped his brow. He wasn't used to such heat, not in the cooler climate of Neo-England. Neo-France's bright sun was a huge change, one which didn't go down well with the Neo-England crew. Haro was flying about, making constant announcements about the temperature in both centigrade and Fahrenheit. Graham was the only member of the crew dressed 'improperly' for the event, with his baggy t-shirt and shorts, in comparison to the stuffy formalwear his companions wore. Mark began to fiddle with his tie, evidently annoyed.

"I just don't see why I've got to wear this...as soon as I get in my Gundam, its all MTS, no need for this..." Mark put a newly-tanned arm around his friend's shoulder.

"Pro-to-cality, my friend. What if you get asked to have dinner with the king? You wouldn't wanna dishonour him by turning up all scraggly and stuff, wouldja?" Mark responded by hitting his best friend on the back of the head.

"Then why are you in your civvies? " He raised an eyebrow. " Unless you're not coming..."

"'Fraid not. I've gotta do some research on your next opponent, and I'll get the feedback to you tonight."

"Some have all the luck..." Mark shook his head. He seriously felt like kicking Haro, as he heard for 278th time that the temperature was at roughly 37 degrees centigrade, and 98.6 Fahrenheit.

Despite the terrible heat, the city of Nice remained a spectacle to be beheld. The architecture was reminiscent of centuries past, in a similar fashion of London, but of a style all its own. The locals seemed relatively unperturbed by the stifling heat, but that could be attributed to their lack of clothing, in comparison to the group. General Kitchener looked particularly angry, his brow furrowed in a desperate attempt to withstand the heat in his military regalia, and to find this building where they were to meet King George De Sand of Neo-France. To him, all of these buildings looked the same, architecture not being his strong point. He frantically studied the map, vainly searching for that elusive alleyway, or magic bridge leading to the hotel overlooking the lake. His knowledge of the French language was also lacking, and any attempts to get a passer-by to help were met with derision.

"I'm getting very sick of these rude locals, Prime Minister," he growled. "I hope this stupid king of theirs shows up on time..." Barclay simply smiled, and shook his head in response. Before Kitchener could make another complaint, he was stopped by a man in French military attire.

"Pardon, monsieur. Est-ce que vous les officiales des Neo-Angleterre?" Kitchener opened his mouth, most likely to respond with some sort of complaint about none of the French being able to speak English, but was swiftly halted by an interjection from Barclay, who confirmed the statement. The group was lead by this person to a large building, the walls of which were emblazoned with the flag of Neo-France. The doors were of the clearest glass, lending itself to a near crystalline appearance. In fact, the entire building was of a similar appearance, by with flags draped across. As they entered, Kitchener noticed how the soldier was hanging back, by the door. He also spotted what appeared to be an opened palm.

"A tip? Ugh...Prime Minister, do you have any Neo-French francs?"

"I'm sorry general, no cash on me." Graham stepped up, and pressed a note into the soldier's hands.

"Relax, general. I've got it covered." He noticed a smile appear on Kitchener's face. An unusual sight, considering his opinion of most foreign countries. "I guess this is as far as I go. I'll try and scare up some info about the Gundam Fighter for this place."

"Thanks, Graham. Now get going! He might ask for more..." He glared at the soldier, and followed the rest of the crew in. Barclay turned to him.

"Ah, finally sorted out that problem, have we?"

"I just don't understand why we should have all these different currencies! It's a bloody waste of time..."

"Actually, centuries ago, all of Europe had a currency called the Euro. However, it was economically weak in comparison to the British pound sterling, and it soon collapsed."

"Best of British, huh? Hardly surprising..."

Inside this building, more French flags were draped over the walls. Indeed, this was the residence of somebody who felt a lot of pride in their home country. Military officials were seen walking to and fro, and statues and portraits of famous figures from French history also adorned the different rooms. Such spectacle put Barclay's home to shame, something which he shamefully noted.

The crew did not walk far, before they were halted by the sound of a trumpet fanfare. An official bowed before the Prime Minister, and removed his cap.

"Presenting King George De Sand of Neo-France, and Queen Maria Louise." Before them all, two figures of elegance personified strode calmly down the stairs, hand in hand, in many ways, a fairytale couple. George, dressed in a deep blue outfit adorned with medals personified the typical 'prince Charming' of many children's dreams, while Maria Louise wore a dress of the most elegant silk, the Cinderella to George's Charming.

"Ah! Prime Minister Barclay! You do not know how it pleases me to greet you on this day. I can only apologise you have had to endure such stifling heat...our Paris arena is still under construction, and it would hardly be becoming for the duel to take place on an unfinished stage..." George shook Barclay's hand. He then presented Maria Louise, whose hand was kissed.

"It is good to you too, your majesty. And may I comment upon your charming wife? She is certainly a fitting queen for a king such as you." Maria Louise giggled in response, and blushed.

"Well, if you were a few years younger, Mr Prime Minister, I think my George would have reason to worry..." George laughed in response.

"Well! And where is the Gundam Fighter who valiantly battled the Eidolon Gundam?" Mark stepped forward, and bowed.

"I am, your highness. Mark Anderson, at your service." George smiled, and took a rose from his left breast pocket, sniffing it.

"It is a pleasure, Mr Anderson. Now, forgive me for skipping straight to business, but are you ready to begin your match? Or perhaps you would prefer to wait until tomorrow?"

"If it's no trouble, your highness, we shall rest until tomorrow." Barclay butted in, leaving Mark open-mouthed, and feeling fairly sheepish.

"Very well then. At least, let me introduce our fighter to you." Barclay nodded in confirmation. George looked to his right, and nodded to a guard. A door opened, and a young man walked out. His hair was short, in a near military buzz-cut style, and dyed light blue. His face was ornately tattooed, with red dashes underneath his eyes. He possessed a look of determination, and seemed a strong willed man. "This, my friends, is Jean-Luc Mirabeau." At the sound of this name, Haro piped up.

"Mirabeau! Mirabeau! Versailles tragedy!" With this announcement, all eyes were on Haro.

"Well, it appears your little friend knows something about our fighter." George tossed a few loose strands of hair away. "Yes, Mirabeau is indeed linked with the Versailles tragedy. But...that was Jean-Pierre Mirabeau."

"My father." Jean-Luc added.

"Yes...but luckily, we do not consider the sins of the father to be a problem, do we?"

"I am fighting to bring honour back to my family name. I...do not feel my father was entirely in control when the tragedy occurred."

Before the 13th Gundam Fight, Neo-France held a tournament to determine which Gundam would represent Neo-France. The two remaining fighters were George De Sand, in Gundam Rose, and Jean-Pierre Mirabeau, in Mirage Gundam. Mirabeau employed a tactic in which he would stand in front of the audience, thereby making it impossible for George to attack without harming the crowd. However, the king noticed this, and immediately disqualified Mirabeau. Angered. Mirabeau attacked the king, and managed to kill a great deal of the crowd. Although sentenced to 1,000 years imprisonment, he escaped, and became infected with DG cells. He was eventually killed by George De Sand.

Everybody knew of this horrifying event. It still brought a shudder to George, who bore especially bad memories of the event, and carried a great deal of blame for the many deaths. Jean-Luc also carried the shame within him.

"My father...he was a strong man. He loved victory, however. Far too much...This is why he would go to any lengths just to win..." He shook his head. Mark put a hand on Luc's shoulder.

"Listen. Your father may have done some bad stuff...but you haven't yet." Luc smiled in response.

"You seem like a good man. Let's hope your fighting skills are the equivalent of your character."

Hours later, night had fallen on Neo-France, and sleep was the main order of the day for many. The Neo-England embassy was situated fairly closely to the summer home of the king, and also close to the arena. Mark liked this, as he could get a good view from the balcony of his room.

It was late. Mark was sitting in the cool night air, fairly restless, when a knock sounded at the door. Graham walked in, carrying some documents.

"Graham. Where've you been?"

"Chasing women. Seriously, though, I got some info on the fighter."

"Oh, thanks." Mark seemed particularly apathetic.

"Hey, what's up? There'd better be a reason for you giving me the iceman..."

"I'm sick of my decisions being made for me. I was ready to fight Jean-Luc just then, but the prime minister decided for me, before I could even say a word."

"Well, you haven't had any info on him yet, have you? This is what these are for." He patted the documents, and put them on the table. "C'mon, study them at least. You'll have a better chance of winning that way." Mark smiled to his friend.

"Thanks, pal." He leafed through the few pages available. "This all you could get?"

"Hey, gimme a little credit, willya? This guy's completely new, and you'll be his first opponent! I was lucky to get this much without storming into the Neo-France labs and looting the place!" Mark raised an eyebrow. It was times like this he wasn't sure if his friend was joking or not. He looked at some diagnostic stats and blueprints.

"Rose Mirage Gundam, huh?"

"Combining the best aspects of both George De Sand's Rose Gundam and the Mirage Gundam. You're gonna have your work cut out for you."

"Hmm...Rose bits...missile launchers...this guy's gonna be a handful." Mark and Graham looked at each other.

"Well, he's not a seasoned fighter. Remember, Vlad had already fought once before, and you held him off pretty well."

"Good point...maybe I should change weapon systems for this match..."

"Weapon systems?" Graham gave Mark a confused look. "What are you talking about?" Mark shot him a sly grin.

"Oh, you'll see."


	4. VS NeoFrance's Rose Mirage Gundam

Mark awoke suddenly in a cold sweat. He was surrounded on all sides by darkness, and the wind howled in through the open window. As he wiped the sweat from his brow, he noticed he was shivering intensely.

His shaking hands fumbled about on top of the bedside cabinet, searching for the lamp. As he finally turned it on, he saw the time on the clock; three a.m. He pulled himself out of bed, and stumbled into the bathroom. Turning on the taps, he splashed his face with cold water, and stared deep into the mirror.

There he was. Dark bags underneath his eyes. Pale faced. And red-eyed. He slowly started to mutter to himself.

"What...was that? A dream? No...Not a dream. The worst bloody nightmare I've had in years!" He slammed his fist onto the wash-basin, and started to cough. He felt physically sick. He started to recall what phantom had menaced him during his rest.

He saw the Rose Gundam, as it was seven years ago, in his home colony of Neo-England. He saw the sky, ablaze. Long, dark green Gundam Heads bobbed about menacingly, like cobras before a snake charmer. Rose bits dashed about the skyline, leaving a dazzling trail of pink in their wake. There was a sense of dread about this scene, as the Rose Gundam found itself entangled by multiple Heads. Then Mark saw a sight, one which he had hoped his mind had forgotten.

His family, lying bleeding on the ground. But it was worse. He saw what appeared to be a cloth bandage over his father, one which wrapped around both him and his mother. However, he suddenly realised it was no bandage, but his intestine, and began to violently throw up. His brother's corpse lay nearby, only a few years younger than himself, but now a smashed example of the human body. It was barely recognisable. Then he screamed.

It was at that point he woke up. Mark began to breathe heavily, and choked out tears. He realised later that this repressed memory was brought on by seeing the Rose Mirage Gundam, as well as hearing George De Sand's voice. He could still remember it, pitch perfect, on that day, hearing him tell everybody to remain calm, and that nobody would die on his watch. He remembers hearing of the death count later, numbering into the hundreds.

Perhaps this was why he was so eager to fight George. As a means of vengeance for his failed promise, to avenge his family's life. He shook his head. He knew, deep down, George was hardly responsible for this. Without his intervention, the colonies of Neo-England, France and Germany would never have survived. It was really the Earth-based rebels who were to blame, but they were never found. Since that day, the Shuffle Alliance had yet to be seen again, at least as a fighting unit. There had been many rumours, and stories in the tabloids about sightings of Domon Kashuu, or even Argo Gulski, but nobody knew where those two had gone. Everybody knew Sai Saici had taken up training the new Shaolin Temple, while George had become ruler of his homeland. Chibodee, on the other hand, returned to his first love, boxing, and became undisputed world champ. However, he was eventually removed from the prize circuit following a scandal, and was rumoured to be found in many pubs, drinking his sorrows away.

Morning came slowly. No matter how hard he tried, Mark could not get himself to sleep, as the haunting images returned to him any time he closed his eyes. The sun rose quietly, unannounced, as it was not long before the city was blanketed in a warm light. Mark shielded his eyes as he looked out of the window. He was never used to having such bright light so early in the morning, and secretly couldn't wait to get this fight finished, and return home.

Breakfast was finished quickly, Mark eating in complete silence. Graham attempted conversation, but soon realised something was up, and let the matter drop. Barclay and Kitchener, on the other hand, seemed to be enjoying conversation with the Royal Family, and their laughter irritated Mark. Curiously, Jean-Luc sat alone, also in complete silence. Mark wondered why he chose to sit alone...after all, he seemed to get on very well with George, but at the same time, he seemed distanced from all others. But he figured it was none of his business, and instead left to see to his Gundam.

Working on the some of the knees joints, Mark saw and greeted Andy Yeoman.

"Hey, Mark! What can I do for you?"

"Andy, have you started work on the weapons yet?" Andy shook his head, signifying no. To this, Mark smiled and handed him some blueprints. "Tell me, do you think you can install these for the fight today?" Andy took off his goggles and slipped them above his helmet. He scratched his chin as he studied the designs.

"Hmm...Shouldn't be too hard. No prob, Mark. You'd better go get ready for the fight. I'll sort things out here."

"Thanks, Andy." As he left, he quickly shot him a 'thumbs up', which received a wink in reply.

The hours soon passed, and it was nearly midday, the scheduled time for the match. The arena soon began to fill up, and technicians began last minute checks upon the barrier. There were bad jokes circulating in which people wanted to the barriers as strong as possible, lest young Jean-Luc live up to his father's reputation. It was only through luck that he never heard these. Mark, on the other hand, felt pressure mount in his chest. His Crusade Gundam had been altered to fit his specifications, and was now sporting a giant shield on its back. Likewise, Jean-Luc knew his hour had arrived. It was time to escape his father's shadow, and break free of the stranglehold his family name had placed upon him.

George De Sand, along with his wife, and the Neo-England dignitaries, sat in a specially constructed box above the regular crowd seating. Here, George poured his guests a glass of wine, and sat back, running his fingers through his long, elegant hair.

"Well, my friends, I should expect we will have quite the show today. Your Crusade Gundam against the Rose Mirage Gundam...This could be very interesting." George smiled, and took a sip of his wine. Bordeaux, F.C 35. That was a good year.

"Might I remind you, your majesty, that our fighter has been briefed by one of the greater cadets of our military? He ought to handle your Gundam with ease." Kitchener placed his glass of wine to the side. He hated French wine, and personally felt that it lacked flavour, in comparison to Italian wine, at least. Barclay chuckled at hearing this remark.

"What's this? You're finally standing up for Mark?"

"Well, I...it's just a matter of national pride, that's all. " Kitchener folded his arms, knowing full well he had been defeated. " When's this bloody match expected to start, anyhow?"

"In roughly five minutes, general. In the meantime, I notice you have yet to sample some of this wine. I assure you, wine of this quality is hard to come by, and you really should try it." George topped up his own glass, and looked at Kitchener. Barclay leant closer towards Kitchener, and urged him to at least taste it, for the sake of good foreign relations. Kitchener rolled his eyes, muttered some expletive about the French, and put the wine to his lips.

"Cheers."

The time arrived. The two Gundams stood majestically before the crowd, the bright sunlight glinting off of them. The Rose Mirage Gundam was an unusual sight to many; it possessed the same head of the Rose Gundam, along with the same beam sabre and shield, but the rest was comprised of the same design as the original Mirage Gundam. The Crusade Gundam seemed fairly unspectacular in contrast, its simple red and white colour scheme being a bland contrast. George stood up, and his holo-image appeared over the arena.

"Now, Gundam Fighters, may this battle be one composed of honour, grace, and dignity! GUNDAM FIGHT!"

"Ready!"

"Gooooo!" The two mech dashed forwards, as was the usual Gundam Fight procedure, and grappled with their fists. Crusade Gundam held a slight strength advantage over the Rose Mirage, and Jean-Luc realised this as he felt his mech move slowly backwards. He knew such a situation would arise, however, and had prepared an adequate defence. He quickly let go, and dashed backwards, disrupting Mark's balance. As the Crusade Gundam began to sway, the Rose Mirage unleashed a barrage of missiles from one of the armaments on the shoulders. It quickly fell down, leaving Mark cursing his own stupidity. He managed to get up quickly, before any further attacks could be landed upon him in such a vulnerable position. He whipped out the shield from behind, emblazoned with the same Red and White cross as his Gundam, and covered his body with it.

Jean-Luc knew his missiles would have little effect at this point, and decided it would be a good time to unleash the Rose Bits. They could attack from all directions, making the shield potentially useless.

"Well Mark, that's a good shield there, but it's not going to help. ROSE BITS!" From the shield on his left shoulder came the bits, small laser cannons mounted on an esoteric design of a rose. Controlled mentally, they could attack anywhere, from any angle. Mark suddenly experienced a flashback, and saw once again his terrible nightmare. He grit his teeth, and swore not to give in. To fall at this point, before even starting would only serve to crush him.

The time for thought was over, however, as the bits flew towards him at an incredible speed. Knowing full well his shield would offer protection only to his front, he knew it was time to reveal his second surprise... Reaching into the same leg socket from which his lance came from, he picked out what appeared to be the same handle which became the lance. Seeing this, Jean-Luc scoffed.

"A beam lance? The range is far too long for it to affect the bits. Is this some sort of joke?" Jean-Luc raised an eyebrow. "Never mind. It's time to end this. ROSE SCREAMER!" At the sound of this, Mark instantly pressed a button on the handle, which shot out a large beam sabre, of near broadsword size. The crowd was audibly shocked at this development. Graham, sitting in the audience with audio contact to Mark, gave a little cheer.

"Good thinking, Mark. Now, you'd better get rid of those bits before they paralyze you..."

"Not a problem, Graham." Using the sabre and shield combined, Mark managed to both block and destroy many of the offending bits, leaving Jean-Luc's assault a failure. "Now, I believe it's my turn, Mirabeau." The mech charged forward, shield first, towards the prone Rose Mirage Gundam. Jean-Luc growled, and quickly whipped out his beam sabre. The pair clashed in a spectacular display of fencing skill, and general swordsmanship.

"So, Mark, I never did find out why you became a Gundam Fighter. I trust it is out of pride for your country?" Jean-Luc inquired. Mark was taken aback at such small talk during a deadly fight, but he realised he was also highly over-confident, a flaw he could use to his advantage.

"For my friends, and those who have made me the man I am. Not for my country." Jean-Luc was surprised to hear such a comment.

"What? Gundam Fighters fight for the pride of their country foremost! Even my family name falls second to the nation's pride!" He leapt back, and fired more missiles at the Crusade Gundam. "You cannot be serious!" The missiles were easily blocked by the shield, and Mark stood his ground in response.

"Blind nationalism is what has caused this fight to continue for so long. Ideas like the ones you're entertaining are what caused the return of the Devil Gundam seven years ago. I am a product of all of that." He roared, and charged forward with enough ferocity all were taken aback. He rammed the beam sabre into the shoulder of the Rose Mirage Gundam, and began to calm down. "I hope you understand. Such self-serving notions are what killed my family, and countless others seven years ago. I cannot...will not, allow anything like that to happen again." Jean-Luc lay back in pain, holding his shoulder, now severed from MTS control.

"I see...do you feel that human nature is really so pathetic? That we cannot continue as long as the fight stays? I refuse to accept that notion. I'm sorry, Mark. You are indeed a good man, and I am sorry to hear of your loss, but this fight must stay. Otherwise, there is total war." The Rose Mirage Gundam pushed itself off of the sabre, and stood back. "We fight to preserve a peace." Mark grimaced in response.

"If the Gundam Fight is truly the icon of peace you claim it is, then why is there such opposition? Why the attempt to destroy the colonies?"

"There are always some who will challenge the status quo. It is always the case. But you cannot justify removing a system which ensures peace in exchange for notions such as globalisation. An Earth Federation will never be able to satisfy everybody. History has proven that." Mark hung his head low upon hearing this.

"Perhaps you are correct. But I will keep fighting for my beliefs! Not for the country! I will fight for what I believe in!" The Crusade Gundam rammed Rose Mirage with the shield, before pointing the sabre at the neck. "Now. I believe you have lost."

There was total silence. The crowd was in awe at the clash of ideologies and mecha. In fact, many started to applaud. This was one of the most spectacular fights yet seen in Gundam Fight history. Jean-Luc smiled, and nodded in response.

"You win, Mark. Congratulations. Now, remove my head. I shall revive this nation's honour...along with my family...next time."

"Why wait? " Mark pulled the sabre away." You have no need to be removed this time. Keep fighting. I want another match with you, in the Finals." He offered a helping hand up. Jean-Luc reached for it, and the crowd erupted into cheering.

In the VIP box, George shed a tear. Maria Louise was clapping furiously, while Barclay merely smiled, and nodded his head. Kitchener, on the other hand, was furious he didn't behead Rose Mirage Gundam and eliminate the possibility of seeing it in the finals, but secretly he rejoiced at the fact he won at all. George walked to the open window, and dropped a rose from it, which landed onto the battlefield, onto the Crusade Gundam.

"A beautiful fight. You have my thanks, Mark Anderson, for such a brilliant duel."


	5. A New Direction

The weeks passed quickly following the defeat of the Rose Mirage Gundam. Bets were beginning to be made on the favourites to win the Final Battle, and be pronounced Gundam of Gundams. Neo-Australia's Ranger Gundam held the current title, and was tipped to remain in that position. Other favourites included the Gundam Abaddon of Neo-Israel, Gundam Eidolon of Neo-Romania, Texas Gundam of Neo-America, and the Siam Gundam of Neo-Tibet.

Neo-England was still a danger, however, as evidenced by the previous two fights. Mark had made a name for himself in the Gundam Fight community, and was viewed with more and more respect. This became evident when Mark discovered action figures released, based around the current Gundam Fight. He was amused to find out his Gundam was amongst the highest sellers, and even more pleased when the profits came rolling back to him.

It had been a month since the last battle, and Mark began to grow restless. Barclay was under the impression a 'lassiez-faire' was best in both economic matters, and Gundam Fighting. Because no challenges were coming in, Mark's only form of training came from duelling against Graham, who was using a Casshing, a standard issue Neo-England military MS. He didn't like this, mainly because it didn't offer the same level of a fight as a traditional Gundam Fight, and whenever he managed to win, he would leave a crushed Casshing in his wake, and therefore get his ear chewed out by General Kitchener, who hated seeing his precious MS getting destroyed needlessly.

"I'm getting really sick of this," Mark complained, during a training session, "all that happens these days is that you shoot me, I dodge, rip the head off, bam, I've won." Graham shrugged his shoulders.

"Orders from the top, I'm afraid. Old PM doesn't want you to get injured or anything, so here we are." As predicted, he fired a shot that was easily dodged, and the mech couldn't move quickly enough to avoid the George's Cross. The head of the Casshing flew off, as predicted, and so ended another training session.

"Well, that's another round of tediousness over," Mark muttered.

"C'mon, I'll buy you a brew." Graham replied. The pair exited their respective mecha, and quickly showered up. There was a certain emphasis upon speed, as they had to avoid the attentions of General Kitchener. It was bad enough these training sessions seemed to benefit Mark's skills little, but a daily yell from Kitchener only served to make life worse.

Having escaped the training centre, the pair headed downtown, to London's east end. Although a dangerous place to visit, Mark and Graham could handle themselves. They entered a certain pub, one of their favourites, and pulled up a stool. Graham ordered the drinks, and Mark looked at the television that had been set up. It was showing a live Gundam Fight, so Mark took special interest. Graham handed him his beer, and watched as well.

"Hey, looks like a good fight. Who's in it?"

"I think it's Neo-Canada's Maple Gundam...but I've no idea who the other fighter is..." The Maple Gundam was resplendent in its bright red colour scheme, designed to emulate the appearance of the Canadian Mounties. The other Gundam, however, was different. It appeared to have a tall hat, which was bordered by a lining of gold, and long, white robes. In addition, it wielded a long staff, with what appeared to be a crucifix on the end. This Gundam could certainly hold it's own, and could avoid each and every shot thrown at it. However, with only a few slashes of its staff, the Maple Gundam lost both of its arms, and fell to its knees. The crowd began to cheer, and the announcer's voice cut in, over the noise;

"Well, there you have it folks! The Maple Gundam of Neo-Canada has been defeated! The winner...Neo-Vatican's Pope Gundam!" Mark and Graham looked at each other, and then started to laugh.

"Pope Gundam? That's a good one! "Graham snorted.

"What's next, Gundam Jesus?" Mark added. "I mean, I've heard of some pretty dire Gundams, like Neo-Spain's Matador Gundam, or the Freedom Gundam of Neo-America, but this takes the cake!" Graham wiped a tear from his eye.

"Well, how'd you like to take him on?"

"Sure! Why not? What's the worst that could happen? He'll excommunicate me?" Their amusement halted in time to see the post-match discussion by the experts on the television.

"Well Bob that was quite the match wasn't it?"

"You know it, Bill. A pretty clever tactic of Pope Gundam there, to allow Maple Gundam to exhaust its ammo."

"Yep. The fighter even seems like a good sport, too. He let Maple Gundam leave, and repair itself." Graham took a sip of his beer.

"Y'know, I swear there wasn't any of this when you fought Gundam Eidolon or Rose Mirage..."

"Maybe because my Crusade Gundam doesn't look quite as ridiculous as Pope Gundam." Mark sniggered.

"Y'know, you're making too many jokes these days. You'd better watch it; you might develop a sense of humour."

Later on that evening, Barclay called a meeting, to determine their plans for Neo-England's Gundam Fight crew. Everybody involved was at this meeting, not just the crew itself, but also a great deal of the members of parliament, who held much sway over how the country was run.

"Now then. I have called this meeting to determine Neo-England's plan for the Gundam Fight. So far, we have been challenged twice, and escaped defeat on both occasions. However, I believed a lassiez-faire policy was best in such matters. It may seem boring, but this policy has prevented any possibility of Neo-England's chances for victory being eliminated. However, certain members of our team disagree." Barclay halted for a moment, and glanced up at General Kitchener. "So, I have decided to hear some opinions on this, and we shall see what happens now." Kitchener stood up, and began to speak.

"First, Prime Minister, this training you're putting Mark into is wasteful, and useless. I've watched the training bouts, and not only am valuable Casshings being wasted, but Mark's skills are becoming sloppy," Mark opened his mouth to object, but realised Kitchener was speaking in his favour.

"I'll second that," Graham added.

"Mark needs to use this survival eleven period wisely, so that he can defeat any potential dangers before the Final Battle. Also, his skills and tactics will improve tremendously from this." As he sat down, he was applauded with the sound of agreement, as if this were a parliamentary debate. Barclay shut his eyes, and considered Kitchener's proposal.

"I understand, General. But, you must realise, there is also the possibility of meeting an opponent too powerful for Mark at this point in time," Graham stood up, and rubbed the back of his neck.

"...well, that's why I've been assigned, isn't it? As strategist, I check out Gundams before he fights them, and gives him the info. Remember the last fight? Without the blueprints I got him, he never would've thought of the shield and sword weapon system, and gotten evaporated by a hail of missiles." Mark looked up, and smirked slightly. He never realised just how much his friends meant to him until now. Barclay got up, and sighed.

"Well, it seems that everybody has a view on this subject, except the fighter himself. Mark...?" Mark, startled, fumbled about for a response.

"Well, uh, it would be great to see the world, I guess...and I do need some better training..." Barclay motioned for him to stop talking.

"Very well then. You may roam free throughout the world, challenging as you wish." He sat down, with a dejected look on his face. Amid all the cheering, Mark noticed this on Barclay, and felt slightly guilty. He knew it was all for his own safety, but he had an obligation to Barclay, his father-figure. However, he also knew that such an approach would make his fighting skills dangerously lacking, and therefore lead to a quick defeat at the Final Battle.

It was later that night, and General Kitchener called the Neo-England crew to discuss their next move.

"Well, now we have broken free of the Prime Minister's stranglehold, we can move as we wish. He has informed me that he wishes to remain behind, to focus on domestic matters. So, I shall be leading you. Any objections? "Nobody raised their voices, suggesting that his proposal pleased all." Very well then. Personally, I think we should head to Neo-America first, but Mark, since you're the fighter, you get to choose... "Kitchener started muttering after this." Of course, we COULD ignore the words of the country's top general, but never mind..." Mark and Graham looked at each other, and started laughing wildly. "Well? What the devil do you two find so funny?"

"Neo-Vatican! We gotta see this Pope Gundam for ourselves!" Mark choked out in-between sniggers. Graham patted him on the back, and ran a hand through his hair.

"Good choice, pal!" Kitchener stroked his moustache, and smiled slightly.

"Oh? Well, that ought to be fun. Graham, gather up information. We leave tomorrow."


	6. VS NeoVatican's Pope Gundam

The Neo-Vatican City had never previously participated in a Gundam Fight. The Christian mantra of pacifism forbade participating in such an event. This does not necessarily mean that the church condemned the fight; instead, it praised the concept as a bloodless and intelligent solution to war.

However, a new Pope of the Catholic Church came to power in F.C 78, following the demise of the previous Pope. This man, Pope Simon Peter the 1st of Future Century, believed it would be best, having witnessed the horrors of the second Devil Gundam incident, for the Catholic Church to take control of space, and lead humanity into a better future. Of all of the countries on Earth, the Vatican was one of the few that did not have a colony counterpart; instead, it possessed a great stake in the colony of Neo-Italy, and from there the Pope conducted his business in space. However, it was decided that should the Neo-Vatican win the Gundam Fight, then Neo-Italy would relinquish control for the next four years, until such a time that the Neo-Vatican either loses the fight, or abstains from entering.

This new Pope was regarded by many of the clergy as being somewhat fanatical in his faith, but in such a fashion it inspired his followers. He was young, only in his late twenties, when he was ordained as leader of the faith. Many of the cardinals considered such youthful fanaticism would serve greatly for the religion, and although shocked when he announced his plans to enter the 20th Gundam Fight, they obeyed without question, understanding his decision.

As a fighter, Simon Peter was surprisingly skilled. He had absorbed all the literature on the likes of the Knights Templar, and other such secret societies under the Catholic Church's employ. Hence, he was a warrior monk first and foremost, dedicating himself to ridding the world of corruption, and evil.

His first match against the Maple Gundam of Neo-Canada shocked all, especially considering that the odds were stacked against him; Neo-Canada's fighter was a veteran of three previous Gundam Fights, never having won any, but always achieving a high position. This sudden defeat was a major upset, and as such the Neo-Vatican Gundam became an enigma; nobody could be quite sure what to make of it.

Mark found the Mediterranean heat somewhat stifling. Much like Neo-France, the locals didn't seem to care much. It appeared he was the only one of the crew who found it irritating as well. Haro had been specially configured not to spout the temperature out at random intervals by an enraged Mark during their stay at Neo-France, and he was glad he didn't return Haro to normal. Instead, it just bobbed about, occasionally being pointed at by interested children.

General Kitchener, ignorant of the magnificent architecture, found the Vatican a little too stuffy for his liking. The heat could be seen visibly rising above them, evidenced by the 'wobbly' air on the more narrow streets. Kitchener had no particular love of either heat or religion, meaning he became more irritable than usual. Each time he passed a robed priest, he had to be physically restrained from making a remark like 'nice dress', which tired Graham out.

In order to challenge Simon Peter, all Gundam Fighters needed to attend a mass held especially by him, in St Peter's Square. Although Kitchener baulked at such a concept, Mark had no problems, and decided to go there by himself.

The crowd in St Peter's Square was enormous. Gundam Fighters from across the world mingled with locals and pilgrims, in a spectacular gathering of people. As Mark looked about the crowd, he suddenly caught eyes with a woman. She seemed roughly his age, and had long, silky black hair. Her eyes seemed crystal blue, and her skin was slightly tanned, marking her out as having come from the Middle East. She looked back at him, but quickly turned her head. If he didn't know better, Mark could have sworn she was blushing. He began to move through the crowd to talk to her, but the mass had started.

It was a service unlike what many had expected. Simon Peter was also a sight to behold, his shock of dyed red hair sticking out from underneath his Mitre. His glasses were small, yet perfectly formed for his head, which was long, and angular. He certainly looked too young to be a cardinal, let alone a pope. His voice was powerful, and commanding, suitable for a man whose job was to convert. Certainly, Mark felt his spiritual side come out. However, he couldn't keep his eyes wandering from the girl, who appeared to be deeply involved in the Pope's words.

The service came to an end, coinciding with sundown. As people began to leave, Mark remained where he was, along with many other Gundam Fighters. He couldn't find the girl from before any longer, to his relief. Fighting her would be tricky. Simon Peter remained eerily quiet, on his balcony above them. Suddenly, he caught eyes with Mark, and smiled.

"Neo-England Fighter?" Mark stepped back, surprised to have been picked.

"Yes, your holiness?" His voice had a slight hint of sarcasm as he spoke.

"Tomorrow, at 10am. We shall do battle then. God be with you. "With these words, he turned on his heel and entered the chapel. Mark was surprised at this method of challenging, and evidently so were the rest of the fighters.

"Good going, jerk." Mark felt a jab in his side, and saw a large individual with a cigar sticking out of his mouth. "Been waitin' here a good three days, and you come and steal the glory."

"Maybe he was just irritated by that smell." Mark plucked the cigar from his antagonist's mouth, and dropped it on the floor. He then proceeded to stamp it out.

"Now you just gone and made me mad, boy." The large individual grabbed Mark by the arm, and lifted him into the air. "How about I pop you one, nice and slow...then the real fun begins." Mark struggled vainly against this man's strength, which far exceeded his own. He saw a fist raised, about to strike, then he fell to the ground with a start. As he shook the dust from his clothes, he saw Simon Peter, standing on top of his aggressor, without the mitre, and wielding a large staff with a crucifix on the end.

"He who rebels against the authority is rebelling against what God has instituted and those who do so will bring judgement upon themselves." Simon Peter got down from his vantage point on top of the aggressor, and met with Mark. "I apologise for this fool's actions. I trust you will not exact vengeance? "Mark raised an eyebrow.

"This guy picks a fight with me, and now I'm not to hit him back?" He thought, confused. However, this would-be assailant had gotten up, and had begun ranting and raving once again.

"Oh, you think you're so good, dontcha? Well, I'm challenging you right here, right now! " Simon Peter glanced over his shoulder.

"I don't need my Gundam to defeat the likes of you." He quickly executed a back flip, and landed directly behind him, holding his staff against the throat. "Now. Leave my land. Your wrathful intent is not welcome here. "The angered individual started hissing, and violently shook about.

"You wait, you dress-wearin' pansy!" He slammed his elbow into Simon Peter's stomach, and quickly moved out of harm's way. "You're messing wit' the pride of Neo-Cuba, boy! Show a little respect! " He moved to punch him, but had his arm grabbed by Mark.

"You heard the man. Now get out. "Mark spoke calmly, without hesitation. The Neo-Cuban merely growled, seeing the crowd was turning against him.

"A'right. You'll get yours later, kid. " He turned to Simon Peter, with a vicious look." Before I go... " A large saliva stain appeared on his robes. Simon Peter casually pulled a tissue out of his robes, and dabbed the stain. Mark clenched his fists, and glared at the now-leaving man from Neo-Cuba.

"Why aren't you going after him?"

"Turn the other cheek, my friend. As simple as that. "Mark shook his head. How could somebody with such morality be such a good fighter? It boggled the mind. "Now then, I trust I shall see you tomorrow?" Mark noticed the crowd was dispersing, the excitement over. Still no trace of the girl, Mark thought to himself. A relief?

Mark slept fairly well, his dreams haunted by the image of this mysterious girl. He knew he'd probably never see her again, but he couldn't help but feel attracted to her. She was certainly one of the most beautiful women he'd ever seen in his life. For some reason, this troubled him; since he lost his family, he'd always felt he had no time for girls, but this one was making him change his mind. He tried to focus his mind on the match, tried to recall what tactics he had seen in the match on the television. However, this was to no avail, his mind still wandering. When he finally awoke, he ran a hand through his hair, and noticed his mouth was dry, and parched with thirst. He hated that.

As he breakfasted with the crew, Graham briefed him over the stats and techniques of the Pope Gundam.

"First, you gotta watch out for that staff of his. It's got a longer range than you suspect. "

"Uh-huh."

"Also, it doesn't have any long range weaponry, save the staff, so you don't have to worry about hanging back while you plan your next move. It appears he's mainly a counter-attacking fighter, so watch your step. "

"Uh-huh." Graham leafed through some blue-prints.

"It doesn't appear there's any structural weakness, either. It's quite slow moving, but it's got both power and technique. "

"Uh-huh." Mark suddenly felt General Kitchener's hand against the back of his head.

"For God's sake, listen, will you?"

"Uh, sorry, General, I guess my mind just wandered... "Mark shook his head. He knew perfectly well what was distracting him, and felt all the worse for it. He never quite expected himself to be the guy with a schoolboy crush on somebody he'd seen once.

"Anyway, that's all I've got. There might be more surprises, so keep on your guard. I think the lance weapon system would work best here, unless you've got some other ideas... "Graham put down the papers, and looked at Mark. " Be careful, huh? We wanna give the crowd there a good match, and getting whupped now would really ruin it for them. " Mark chuckled in response.

"To say nothing for Neo-England, huh? You got it, guys. "

The match took place in the early morning, following Simon Peter's morning service. Because of this, the stadium was packed to the brim with both church-goers, and Gundam Fight enthusiasts. Mark, in the Crusade Gundam, waited anxiously for his opponent. The brilliant sunlight was even stronger than in Neo-France, and Mark cursed this, knowing full well that would work against him.

Suddenly, the arena became alive with the sound of music. Chorale music from over a millennium ago echoed throughout, the close harmonies spectacularly coming together in such a tight space. The sheer beauty of the music brought many to their knees, and into prayer. Others simply sat and quietly appreciated. Finally, Pope Gundam itself solemnly advanced into the arena, before genuflecting.

"In the name of the Holy Trinity, victory shall be mine." Simon Peter silently whispered a prayer, and followed by marking himself with the Cross, and entering into a battle stance. "Mark Anderson, are you ready?"

"Let's do it."

"GUNDAM FIGHT!"

"READY!"

"GOOOO!"

The two mech rushed forwards, and grappled for a short time. Mark remembered Graham's warning about Pope Gundam's greater strength, and suddenly recalled the same tactic that Jean-Luc Mirabeau used against him; suddenly letting go and dashing back, he saw Pope Gundam begin to sway, and decided a quick victory would be better than none. He withdrew the lance from his leg compartment, and charged forward. However, Simon Peter managed to regain his balance well before anybody suspected, and managed to knock the lance from Mark's hands before any damage could occur.

This was right where Simon Peter wanted him. He knew about the George's Cross, and grabbed both of the Crusade Gundam's arms. He heard Mark cry out in pain, and winced. He didn't particularly enjoy the fight, but understood it as a necessary evil to achieve the victory he required. However, this hesitation to attack also relaxed his grip, allowing Mark to break free, and dash back to avoid further injury.

"Right, open secure channel. Mark saw a video screen with Graham open up in his cockpit. "Graham, I can't get to the lance now without getting my arms crushed again," he rubbed his arms gingerly. "What do I do?"

"Get the George's Cross out, it looks like our only hope at the mo." Mark nodded in confirmation, and shut off the video link. He stood back against the barrier, a reasonable distance from the Pope Gundam, and underwent the necessary motions. He heard cheering from the fans, which obviously enjoyed seeing the Fighter utilise their top weapons.

"You're a good fighter, Simon Peter, but it's time to take you down a notch! Neo-England's ultimate weapon! GEORGE'S CROSS!" Mark's voice had become a roar, adrenaline pumping through his veins. Curiously, he wasn't sweating at all. Simon Peter, on the other hand, was a picture, his body into perfect balance, a technique he had developed to prevent his emotions from interfering in a fight. He remained like this, even when he saw the might of Crusade Gundam, hurtling towards him, armed with a weapon that could remove a Gundam's limbs with a single slice.

Mark, too, noticed this odd calm that Simon Peter displayed, but ignored it, his rage now potently focused enough, into a single, powerful strike. The distance between the two Gundams had become closed in only a few seconds, and now the Crusade Gundam was close enough to swing the Cross and decapitate Pope Gundam. Mark grinned evilly, and lunged with all of his might, his entire body weight behind the weapon.

Simon Peter noticed this, and simply ducked. This tactic surprised all, especially General Kitchener, who was banging his head against a wall at this point.

"The most powerful weapon we have...ducked...this isn't happening..." Mark too, was thrown by this sudden move, and had left himself open, which Simon Peter took advantage of. Knocking the Crusade Gundam back, he then performed the sign of the Cross, to the surprise of many.

"Now, Mark Anderson, you shall understand why it is foolish to challenge the might of God." Before Mark could register what was happening, he screamed in pain. He looked at his hand, and saw a spike had run straight through it. And then the same happened to the other hand. And finally, the neck. The sheer force of these spikes flying through the air pushed him against the barrier, pinning him there. "You have been defeated, I am afraid. There is no escape from my Holy Stigmata attack. Now, surrender."

Mark choked. The feeling of a spike through the neck was enough to flatten even the strongest of people, and Mark was no exception. His breathing became laboured, and his arms began to ache from the intense pressure placed upon them by the enforced arm position. However, his will remained indomitable, and his legs could still move. Looking down, he saw the arena was very dusty, and struggled out a small smile.

"This fight isn't over yet!" He cried out, and kicked the dust into the air. The huge cloud blocked many of the Pope Gundam's sensors, and as a result, Simon Peter was virtually blind.

"Blast! Where are you?"

"Look up above, your holiness!" Simon Peter looked up, and instead was suddenly blinded by the sun's rays. Mark had to stop himself from laughing as he saw the Pope Gundam fall for such a trick. He was still pinned to the wall, but had now regained the strength to pull him free. As he saw Simon Peter stumble about, still blinded, he knew his mission. Regaining the fallen lance, he rushed forwards, and rammed it through Pope Gundam, just under the cockpit. "I think it's time for you to surrender."

"Blinded...by the light of God. Just like Saint Paul. And now, a lance through my side. I have shamed my people, and my creed. Behead me, Mark."

"No. You haven't beheaded anybody yet, and I understand at least one Christian rule: Do unto others, as you would have them do unto you."

"You're more learned than I thought..."

"Keep on fighting, Simon Peter. And we'll meet again at the Finals. Your noble dream doesn't have to end here."

"...thank you, my friend. I shall improve myself, for when we meet next. God be with you." Regaining his vision, Simon Peter solemnly exited the arena to the sound of applause. Neo-England had won again, to everybody's surprise. Mark waved for the crowds, many of whom were loyal fans now. He stopped suddenly, at the sight of one face in the crowd.

"You..." She tossed her dark hair back, and silently mouthed something. Mark cursed his inability to lip-read, and cursed even more upon seeing her leave. "Who are you?" Mark had won, but he felt in many ways it was a pyrrhic victory; he had indeed defeated another powerful opponent, but he had seen somebody he will most likely never see again, and his heart ached at the thought of this.


	7. VS NeoAmerica's Texas Gundam

"Right, we'll get a drink here, Mark."

Graham pushed the door open, and he and Mark entered the bar. It was relatively quiet, featuring the usual pool table and other associated paraphernalia. The only people inside save themselves were the bartender, and a man in his forties who was having a quiet drink.

"Evenin', gents. What'll it be?" The bartender had a thick, Texan accent, which made sense considering that fact that they were in Texas, preparing to challenge Neo-America's fighter, the Texas Gundam.

"Two beers, thanks," Graham responded. Mark noticed the difference in accents, and expected all sorts of idiotic comments. However, that was unlikely. As the bartender went to get the drinks, Mark took a seat next to the stranger. He looked fairly muscular, but his blue jacket made it hard to tell. In addition, his face was obscured by a pair of sunglasses, large and black, making it impossible to see his eyes. His hair was blue, and slicked back.

"Say kid," he asked, with a decidedly different accent from that of the barkeeper, "you look familiar. Have we met before?"

"Uh, no," Mark responded, "don't think so." The man smiled slightly.

"Ah, I recognise you now. You're the Gundam Fighter for Neo-England, aren't ya? I heard all about you!" Mark rubbed the back of his neck, unused to getting such fame.

"Hey Mark, who's this you're talking to?" Graham arrived with the beers, and sat down.

"Don't worry about my name. So, you guys are here to fight the Texas Gundam? "He took a swig of his beer." Kick his butt for me." Mark was surprised to hear this.

"But, aren't you a Neo-American yourself?"

"I'm a native of New York. But this guy's a jerk, plain and simple. "Pure hate seemed to exude from his words. "He's not Neo-America's pride. The only reason he's fighting is to make a name for himself...he's got no dream, he just wants money..." He took another sip of his beer, and realised it was empty. "Hey Barkeep, it's the damn Sahara out here! Another beer!" Mark and Graham looked at each other nervously. The bartender brought him another beer, and returned to his cleaning. "Anyway...I should be up there...I was the champ once...a big shot! I had my dream, and the US of A loved me for it...but now look at me..." He felt a tear well up in his eye. "Now...I'm just a bum...my dreams in ruins..." Mark and Graham got up, having finished their drinks. Mark called over to the barkeep, and laid down some money.

"Here...don't let him drink any more."

"For that much...I won't drink any more." The barkeep pocketed the money, and Mark sat down again. The door opened once again, and in strode a familiar face.

"Hey, if it ain't the little twerp from Neo-England!"

"Oh great, the idiot from Neo-Cuba. What are you doing here?" Mark shook his head, and knew full well he'd have to watch his step, lest fights break out, and needless property damage ensues. Of course, the Neo-England and Neo-Cuban governments would pay, but that was beside the point.

"I'm sticking around to see that Neo-American guy, Jack McFarlane. His Texas Gundam's somethin' else!" He stroked his bushy beard, and lit up a cigar. The smoke cloud wafted towards Mark.

"You know, this is a non-smoking bar," he remarked, "so put it out."

"Or what, kid? You gonna make me?" He leered at Mark, and grabbed him with a free hand. "Come to think of it, we never did finish what we started in Neo-Vatican, did we?" The stranger got up, and saw Mark struggling as he was lifted from the ground. He grabbed the Neo-Cuban's arm, and looked at him over his sunglasses.

"Put him down." When he realised he was being ignored, action had to take place. He clenched his fists, and knocked Mark's assailant back with a wicked haymaker. As the Neo-Cuban rubbed his now sore head, he helped Mark up.

"What are you, an idiot, kid? If you're a Gundam Fighter, you oughtta be able to handle that at least!"

"Don't lecture me, champ. I can handle myself." Graham sniggered as he heard that.

"Didn't the pope rescue you from him last time?"

"Ah, shut up." During this bickering, though, the Neo-Cuban picked up a chair, and ran towards them.

"You coulda just left it, old timer, but now you've gone and ticked me off!" He raised the chair, and hurled it towards them, but the stranger simply blocked it with the flat of his arm.

"Champ, am I, kid? I like that." He snickered. "Well, now I'll show you how a real Gundam Fighter deals with scum like him!" He took a couple of steps, and then leapt forward, fist first, at his antagonist. Before he could even respond, he was laid low by a series of high power punches. Mark and Graham looked at each other, awe-struck.

"That...was something." Graham raised an eyebrow. "Hey, champ, how come you're not the Fighter for Neo-America?"

"That's none of your business." He sat down, and put another beer to his lips.

"It's 'cause he's a washed up loser, that's why." A silhouetted figure stood in the doorway. His figure was apparent, even in shadowed form. His outline showed a cowboy hat, and a toned, muscular body. He strode in, and he became visible for all to see. His boots were large and brown, spurred at the sides. His leather jacket as thick and dark, while his trousers were resplendent in their 'cow skin' colour scheme. At his hips were holstered pistols, and his face wore a leering expression, one which expressed his feelings of superiority to all others.

"Well, if it isn't my good friend," the champ sniggered, "come for another poke at this ol' has-been, huh?"

"Nah. Yer breath does that for you. " He responded, and strode majestically to a stool. Mark glanced at him, and felt nothing but disgust. This was an unusual feeling for him, considering his previous opponents. He found Vlad to be a man of dignity, and courage. Jean-Luc, determination and pride for his nation. And Simon Peter, devout and merciful. But upon looking at McFarlane, he could see nothing but a man so wrapped in his own self-superiority other people were below his notice. He grit his teeth, and whispered to Graham.

"I'm challenging him."

"What? Are you crazy? I haven't had a chance to study his previous fights! You'd be going in blind!"

"So? Pretty much every other Gundam Fighter does the same. Heck, I've heard stories about how Domon Kashuu, back in the thirteenth Gundam Fight, helped Sai Saici regain his stolen Dragon Gundam, without realising who he was aiding!"

"But you're not Domon Kashuu! Mark, you listen to me, you've gotta wait! If you run in like that, and get your butt handed to you, you're gonna disappoint everyone back home! And, to be honest, you're gonna disappoint me!" Mark knew the logic in what Graham was saying, and secretly thanked him for it. But...Graham wasn't a Gundam Fighter. He didn't understand the desire to fight. Granted, he was in the military, but those people never wanted to actually fight, their job was 'keeping the peace'. Mark shook his head, and continued drinking. The loud and overbearing voice of Jack ruined the pleasant atmosphere of the bar. Thankfully, the Neo-Cuban fighter had scurried off during the commotion involving their new friend. Who is he, Mark wondered. He didn't quite understand how a man with that much alcohol in him could fight to such a level. He certainly didn't look like any previous Neo-American Fighters, and even if that was the case, why wasn't he fighting for Neo-America? Surely this Jack guy wasn't stronger than him? These questions stewed over in Mark's mind, and the depressive effects of alcohol soon began to set in.

"Hey, you! Yeah, I'm talkin' to you, man!" Jack's strong Texan accent cut like a knife into Mark's dozy mind, startling him.

"Huh? What do you want?" He slurred.

"Hey, that's a Neo-England accent! What's a guy from Neo-England doin' here?"

"Having a drink. What does it look like?"

"Now, that ain't very nice! I'm trying to be all friendly like, and you're bein' all...sarcastic, yeah, that's the word. What're you trying to do, make me dislike you?" Graham put a hand on Mark's shoulder, and pulled him back.

"'scuse me." Graham turned Mark to face him, and shot him a look that could freeze a man dead in his tracks. "And what do you think you're doing now? Are you TRYING to piss off this guy?"

"Well, at least then I'll have a reason to fight him, other than waiting until you tell me to."

"Hey, forgive me for interruptin' your conversation there, but since you're all Neo-English, have you seen the fighter anywhere? I heard he was hanging about here somewhere, and I was thinkin' you guys might know him."

"Yes, because ALL people from Neo-England know each other..." Mark muttered. "Graham, should I?"

"I'm sorry? A few seconds ago you were having a go at me for watching out for you, now you're begging for my help?" Graham shook his head. "Do as you want, I'm going." Graham got up, and pushed some money onto the counter. Mark sighed, and clenched a fist.

"Yeah, I'm the Neo-England Fighter, Mark Anderson." Jack stroked his chin, and snickered.

"Well, how about that?" He grabbed Mark's right arm, and squeezed a bicep. "Not much here, is there? How'd a runt like you get picked?" Mark swiftly raised his arm, and grimaced.

"None of your business. So, now we've gotten the formalities out of the way, I'm challenging you."

"I like your style, kid. You've got guts." Jack smirked. "I accept. Let's do it."

Graham, having returned to the Neo-England embassy, felt ashamed. His anger had gotten the better of him. He couldn't understand why. Mark had every reason to be upset. He knew he'd feel the same way, were their positions reversed. But, at the same time, he didn't understand why Mark had gotten so uppity all of a sudden. It's as if those three wins had gotten to his head. Perhaps his info wasn't good enough? Graham could only think of one time when his info had actually proven useful, and that was against the Rose Mirage Gundam, which had been made up of two Fighters from two decades ago. Everybody knew how they fought.

However, now was not the time for introspection. It was time to admit failure to Kitchener. He didn't particularly relish this task. He knocked on Kitchener's office door, slightly harder than he intended to. He heard a muffled 'come in', and slowly stepped in.

"Graham! Good to see you. Tell me, where's Mark?"

"Mark..." Graham bit his lip, and hesitated. "Mark has...gone on his own path. He's probably challenged Neo-America's fighter, and he has no info to back him up." Kitchener, rather than spit up his coffee, merely twirled his moustache.

"I see. That's quite the problem. Well, it's hardly your fault; he has gotten too big for his boots lately. Perhaps a defeat will set him straight."

"Sir, it's likely he'll be disqualified during this fight. Jack McFarlane doesn't seem the type to let people go." Kitchener put his cup down, and sighed.

"Right. We'd better be off then." He got up, grabbed a jacket, and marched out of the room. Graham ran out, following.

"I must say, sir, you're taking this pretty well."

"Well, you're not to blame. It's Mark's fault." Upon hearing this, Graham felt his stomach churn slightly.

The sunset was always brilliant in the Texas Wilderness, which is where the arena was located. There was little terrain, save the odd tree, making any tactics involving cover useless. The Texas Gundam was a striking combination of red and white, and looked almost the spitting image of Jack, except obviously a mecha. Mark's Crusade Gundam looked positively antiquated in comparison. He was armed with the 'traditional' weapon set, armed with the lance and small shield. As per usual, the arena was packed to the brim with wild supporters. Mark saw the Neo-American flag being carried by multitudes of supporters, and became slightly concerned that he never saw the Neo-England fans do anything similar. Mark also picked out the drunk from the bar, standing slightly outside the barrier. He had a small olive branch in his mouth, and he watched him chew it slightly. Mark wondered what on earth he was doing, but chose to simply ignore it, and focus on the match.

"Well, kid, you ready to rumble?"

"You know it, Jack. GUNDAM FIGHT!"

"READY!"

"GOOOOOO!" The two mighty machines hurtled forward with such force, that massive winds were kicked up by their eventual collision. Mark could feel his feet buckle slightly under the pressure Jack was mounting upon him. He knew physical strength wouldn't win the match, so he quickly tugged at his opponent's arms, and threw him to the ground. Hoping for a quick, clean victory, he withdrew the lance, and pointed it at Texas Gundam's neck.

"Not much of a match, huh? Surrender, Jack, or face disqualification."

"Ha ha, kid, you really think that's it?" Jack sniggered, and swiftly kicked up at the Crusade Gundam's hands. The spurs on the ankles of the Texas Gundam quickly slashed at Crusade Gundam's wrists, forcing Mark to drop the lance, and he stood back, desperately trying to hold back from the searing pain. Texas Gundam, on the other hand, had flipped up onto terra firma once again, and withdrew a pair of pistols. Unleashing a barrage of six-shooter fire, Mark retreated, hiding behind his shield for cover. As he thought quickly about his next move, now having lost a range advantage, out of the corner of his eye, he could see two familiar figures drive up: Graham and Kitchener. He groaned, knowing full well he was going to receive the ire of his 'team-mates', whether he won or lost. He saw his friend from the bar also, shaking his head. Mark closed his eyes, and gritted his teeth. So many people he was disappointing. Too many. His friends, superiors, and even people he'd only known five minutes. However, this spot of thinking was broken by the raucous voice of Jack, clamouring for action.

"Hey, kid! Let's see some action! You can't hide behind that puny shield forever!"

"Oh, you got it, Jack." Mark roared, and charged forward, shield first, towards Jack. Absorbing the gunfire, he hurled the shield at the Texas Gundam, and with that momentary distraction, he leapt onto it, knee first, and brought it to the ground. "So. Jack. What are you fighting for?"

"What do you care?" Mark felt the strength of the Texas Gundam overpower him slightly. Either he won now, or he'd have to try again.

"Tell me, if you want to keep fighting."

"Heh, you stupid kid...shoulda saved this for afterwards!" Jack managed to push Crusade Gundam back, and with his assailant now on the floor, stamped his foot onto its head. "I'm fighting for number one. Me. When I win, I'm gonna be the most famous man in the entire world! Can't get better than that! " Mark grimaced, and grunted as the immense pressure on his neck mounted.

"You self-absorbed..." Mark began to move his arms in a now-familiar motion. " You don't care at all about anything other than yourself? "Suddenly, the George's Cross appeared in Mark's hands." Face the consequences. "He knew it would have to be now or never, as the slightest increase in pressure would tear off his head." Neo-England's ultimate weapon! George's Cross! "With a single, smooth motion, he sheared off Texas Gundam's right foot. As his opponent fell to the ground due to lack of balance, Mark leapt forward, and exerted all his weight onto the left shoulder of the Texas Gundam.

"Now. Give me a good reason to spare you."

"You ain't getting nothing from me, kid!"

"Figures." Mark raised the George's Cross high, and slammed it down onto the Texas Gundam's neck, and cried out in the doing so, releasing all his rage, sorrow, and doubts into one immense blow. The head flew off. Mark got up, and looked around. Unlike his previous matches, there was no cheering. Nobody was sure what to make of the match.

Except one.

"That was beautiful, kid! You really earned your stripes there! Woo!" The drunk from the bar clapped and cheered wildly. He wasn't too far from where Graham and Kitchener were standing.

"Hey, champ! What are you doing here?" Graham inquired.

"Inspiration, kid. Inspiration." He patted Graham on the shoulder. "Your pal there's a real fighter, you know that?" He took off his sunglasses, and revealed a pair of shining green eyes. "This is why we fight! Not for petty ambition, not for the glory...for our dreams! And Mark's gone and done it!" He whipped off his blue jacket, uncovering a red and white vest, and a highly muscular body. "Graham, thank Mark for me. He's put some life back into this old dog." He ran a hand through his hair, and it spiked up, in a wild, untamed fashion. Graham stepped back, awe-struck. "See you around." As the stranger walked off, Kitchener leaned close and whispered to Graham.

"Is that..."

"I think so...Chibodee Crocket...winner of the 15th Gundam Fight..." Graham shook his head. "Mark's gonna kick himself when he hears who he's missed..."

"Provided I don't kill him."

It was later in the day when Mark rejoined his crew. Graham avoided making eye contact, instead choosing to hang back, and avoid Mark's wrath. Kitchener walked forward and met him.

"So Mark. I trust you've gotten your little outburst out of the way."

"And if I haven't?" Then, with the speed of lightning, Kitchener's hand impacted with Mark's face.

"Remember, you are here solely due to the choice of the Prime Minister. However, I am in control of Neo-England's Gundam Fight policies, and as such, I can dismiss you as I please. If this happens again, you are dismissed. Do I make myself clear?" He turned and walked away. Mark stepped back, rubbing his cheek.

"Sorry for questioning your wisdom, Solomon."


	8. Grounded

Mark stared forward. His eyes met with those of Prime Minister Barclay, and in them he saw a reflection of himself. He seemed weary. Mark knew that feeling well. Mark was weary of being told what to do, how to fight. But none of that mattered to anybody else. All they cared about was Neo-England. Forget the fighter; praise the country that put him forward. He'd always thought that seemed a little strange, that the one who did the fighting became a celebrity for roughly a week, before being pretty much forgotten about. Considering it was the fate of the Earth they fought for, one would have thought the fighters would be deified.

How wrong he was.

After the match against Texas Gundam, Mark found himself quickly returned to Neo-England, for his serious breach of command. Now Mark sat before Prime Minister Barclay, his adoptive father, and saw nothing but disappointment.

"Mark..." Barclay closed his eyes, and softly exhaled. "I just don't understand. Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why did you ignore the advice of your strategist?"

"Why didn't I be a good little robot, you mean?"

"Mark..."

"Why am I being punished? For being a Gundam Fighter? For fighting? For what? Tell me, damn it!" With these words, Barclay got up, and shot Mark a look that made his blood boil.

"No, Mark. This is because of your failure to recognise authority. You directly disobeyed the advice of your strategist, and fought without informing the General. Rules you have been strictly informed of time and time again." Mark returned the look, and slowly got up as he spoke.

"Yes. Authority. Always the authority. Everybody knows how to conduct oneself in a Gundam Fight, except the Fighter. How silly of me to think otherwise." The sarcasm in his voice practically oozed from his lips.

"Mark, you listen to me! You are fighting for Neo-England! Not for yourself! Not for any petty notions of fame you might be entertaining in that thick skull of yours! For Neo-England!"

"Tell me then; what am I getting out of this?"

"I can't believe you! Are you really so narrow-minded?"

"Why? Because I dare to think that perhaps all the countries of the world shouldn't squabble over who rules? Maybe it'd be better if we have a unified world government! Then we wouldn't get psychos like the group from seven years ago trying to destroy the colonies, and usurp power for themselves!" With this, Barclay fell silent. Mark simply turned away, and began to leave the room.

"Mark, you are to go to Neo-Israel next. You are not to fight the Gundam there. You will merely observe."

"And why Neo-Israel?"

"So you can see for yourself how a real Gundam Fighter fights. I have every faith in you, which is why I chose you over Graham as our representative, but until you learn how to fight in such a manner that victory is inevitable, you will remain under our orders. Understood?"

"...understood." Mark slammed the door shut as he left, and wore an expression of disgust on his face as he walked down the corridors. He was sick of being treated like a child. Sick of being told what to do. Sick, most of all, of being unable to choose for himself without being put into situations like what had just happened. He didn't understand it. Mark Anderson, only hope of Neo-England, being molly-coddled into fights, rather than acting like the legendary fighters of old. He stopped at a large portrait of Gentle Chapman, and looked up.

A gold-framed painting, it was roughly 30 years old. It depicted Chapman, with his wife, standing before the Britain Gundam, holding a torch, lighting the way. How was he treated, Mark wondered, when he went into the survival elevens? Surely he went and fought as he pleased, and wasn't told merely to observe! But no, now Neo-England is a shadow of it's former self, controlled by an ageing prime Minister, and fighting for it, a boy with ambitions above his station. How pitiful. Mark reminded himself of an old saying he had heard while preparing for his first fight; "The sun will never set on the British Empire". Granted, Neo-Scotland and Neo-Wales fought separately in the fights, and the unified Neo-Ireland was also separate from the United Kingdom, but the message of the saying still stuck.

Mark violently shook his head. Entertaining such thoughts was foolish. Mark knew it himself, that the separation between countries only led to war. He had studied it in history, how all conflicts had been formed due to barriers that separate humanity. But...a unified humanity was only a pipe dream. Especially in a world that glorified the Gundam Fight so. Mark wondered at times why he fought in the name of a cause that he despised. He originally thought it was for his friends. Those same friends who seem to have enslaved him. Perhaps he fought for himself. It was a mystery to even him.

As he stalked the hallways, he passed Graham. He attempted to make contact with Mark, but was brushed off. Mark simply kept walking, from the one only a day prior he had called 'friend'. He passed Kitchener too, and largely ignored his mutterings.

Finally, he had reached his room, and he threw himself into the covers. Sleep seemed the only escape from his troubles. His head felt fit to burst, under the sheer pressure of his thoughts. One image remained in his mind, long after he closed his eyes, however. The girl from Neo-Vatican. He hadn't forgotten her. It was doubtful he ever would.

As he drifted off to sleep, he began to wonder what had happened to his previous opponents. Vlad, Jean-Luc, Simon Peter...Those three seemed to be decent people, he mused. He knew they won't have been defeated. He came perilously close to defeat fighting each of them. Also, what about Jack McFarlane? He never got a chance to see him after the fight. He could only assume he'd been reprimanded pretty badly by the Neo-American government for losing. They weren't above cheap tricks when it came to victory, recalling the illegal use of the Statue of Liberty Cannon during the 16th fight, and the attempt to assassinate Domon Kashuu during the 13th fight. None of that mattered, though. He'd never see him again, he hoped.

As he awoke from his slumber, he picked up a newspaper, and looked at the front page. Vlad had won a battle in Neo-Italy, against the Centurion Gundam. Mark smiled, and felt genuinely glad. He remembered getting on very well with Vlad, and was pleased to hear he was doing alright. However, a single line caught his attention. It read of how Vlad's infamous 'Heart-Breaker' attack had been used, much to the delight of his fans. This was only the second time, in roughly 6 fights. When quizzed upon why he used this attack so sparingly, Vlad boasted how he saved it for only his toughest opponents.

On reading this, Mark clenched his fists, and threw the paper across the room.

"...only...the toughest opponents? I fought the bastard to a draw!" Mark yelled out in anger, and strode into his bathroom. Minutes later, he stalked out, fully dressed in one of his best suits, looking considerably cleaned up, and with an expression on his face that screamed determination.

As he rushed out of his room, he eagerly knocked on Barclay's door, and stepped in, bursting with confidence.

"Mark! What-what are you doing here?"

"The trip to Neo-Israel. When is it?"

"Uh...some time next week, I think. Why do you-"

"Think we can make it tomorrow?"

"Uh...certainly! Yes, yes..." Barclay quickly grabbed some sheets of paper, and began to make the necessary adjustments. "Tell me, son, what has changed your attitude so suddenly?"

"Let's just say I want to see what you all think a 'good' Gundam Fighter is." Mark's voice became a hiss, and Barclay noted this. While he wouldn't say he was displeased by this sudden change of heart, he noticed Mark's intensity, a characteristic which may prove problematic. As he started to write, he saw Mark slowly leave the room, and the door shut behind him. Barclay dropped the pen, and put his head into his hands. Why, he wondered, why is he acting like this? Mark had always been a model son to him, loyal, and unquestionably faithful. Ever since he started training for the Gundam Fight, however, he'd become distant, and more independent. While this wasn't a bad thing in some respects, Barclay realised that should it continue, he may become a problem. The incident at Neo-America was indicative of this; while he had won, he was similarly far too close to defeat for comfort. Then his eyes whipped open.

"Oh no."

The next day, Mark eagerly stepped onto a Core Lander, along with Graham, Kitchener, Haro, and the rest of the crew. It felt a little weird to be travelling without the Gundam, but Prime Minister's orders prevented that. It didn't matter too much to Mark, as he felt slightly excited at the prospect of seeing a Gundam Fight without being a participant.

As the core lander travelled the landscape with incredible speed, Mark sat back, and let his thoughts drift off into different directions. He'd heard very little about the Abaddon Gundam, which he would be watching. The fighter inside the mecha was largely unknown, and had fought only three times; and each time, victory came in less than a minute. He'd read up on reports given to him by Graham, which specified a sandstorm used to cloud the opponent's eyes, and also the ability to fly. Few Gundams had this trait, especially following the disastrous failure of Neo-Greece's Icarus Gundam of F.C 68, during the 15th Gundam Fight. It took far too much concentration for a fighter to both maintain the use of wings in the MTS, and simultaneously cope with a high-powered Gundam Fight. Hence, the fighter must be one of tremendous skill, Mark reasoned. He knew he certainly couldn't fight with enough skill to continue flying, and he didn't know of any other Fighter with that level of skill, or concentration, save possibly Simon Peter, or maybe even Vlad, who could manage to hover slightly in his Gundam.

Graham leaned over to Mark, and whispered in his ear.

"Hey...uh...you ok?"

"Don't worry about me, Graham. I'll get better."

"Listen, I wanna say..."

"Sorry? No need. I did act out of order in Neo-America, I guess."

"No argument here, pal! Just try not to lose your head again, ok?"

"Don't worry. My mind is set, now. I'm not gonna mess up." Mark's face was the picture of determination, and Graham smiled, half in relief, half in joy, at seeing his friend back to his old self.

"That's good to hear, and I mean that." Graham picked up Haro. "What do you think, Haro, old buddy?"

"Mark is set! Mark is set!"

"There you go. Haro speaking non-sensical rubbish again." Mark chuckled. He reached over, and picked up the papers on Abaddon Gundam, which Graham had provided him with. "So, is this all you know about it? Any idea what weapons, moves, etc?"

"If you'd actually read it instead of looking at the pretty pictures, you'd see right here..." Graham pointed at a large block of text, "here is a run-down of its attacks, and possible defensive methods."

"Gotcha." Mark glanced at this list. Detailed were the primary weapons, based upon the measure of usage in fights, the secondary weapons, which tended to be used sparingly, but with a certain measure of power, and the 'trademark' moves, which are the flashy attacks that everybody remembers, such as Mark's George's Cross and the Bakanetsu God Finger of the God Gundam, for example.

For the Abaddon Gundam, the primary weapons were the shoulder vulcans, and the wings themselves, mainly as shields. The secondary weapons were the angelic sword, which was both fast and deadly, and the eye-beams, which although weak, were capable of halting many a Gundam's charge.

Finally, the 'trademark' moves; Angelic voice, a sub-sonic attack which bypasses any physical defence, and shatters the pilot's will to fight, and the Sword of Death, in which the sword becomes charged with energy, and is empowered to the level of hacking limbs off with the minimum of difficulty. Mark gulped as he read this. There was no doubt that this Gundam would get to the finals. This would have made life for Mark just that tiny bit more difficult. He recalled with bitterness how close he had been to defeat with Texas Gundam, and Jack was hardly a top-rated fighter, especially compared to his previous opponents. These thoughts troubled him as he drifted off to sleep.

Hours later, he awoke with a start. The party had reached Neo-Israel, in time for the Fight.

Today's scheduled battle was between the Abaddon Gundam, and the challenger, Gundam Khan of Neo-Mongolia. This fighter was regarded as a joke by the older fans, armed with nothing but a two-handed axe, and being so slow that most could dodge its attacks. However, even with this handicap, Neo-New Zealand's Kiwi Gundam fell to a single axe swing from this fighter.

Judging by the crowds, many had come to see the Gundam Abaddon, rather than its opponent. As Mark picked his way through the crowd, closely followed by General Kitchener and Graham (who was carrying Haro), he could see many familiar faces from the crowds, ones he'd seen merely in passing from the crowds of his own Gundam Fights. It felt weird to be sitting on the sidelines rather than in the ring itself, but Mark took it as a pleasant change, and felt he could relax rather than worry he'd let his nation down again. He also secretly hoped to catch a glimpse of the girl from before, but knew he wouldn't have a chance seeing her in such a crowd. Suddenly, a hand grasped his shoulder.

"Mark Anderson?" As he turned to face this person, his face lit up.

"Well, if it isn't Simon Peter!" Mark cried out, a little too loud for Simon Peter's comfort.

"Shhh! I'm trying to remain unnoticed here..." He was dressed in civvies, and wearing both a large hat and sunglasses, to cover his appearance. "It'd be too much of a commotion if they knew the Pope was watching this fight..."

"Sorry. So, what are you doing here?"

"I'm planning on seeing who this fighter is, that uses the names of the Bible in such a blatant manner..." His eyes narrowed. "S/he'd better be worthy..." As he shook his fists angrily, Mark spotted Kitchener and Graham rush over.

"Mark, what are you doing talking to the locals? We've picked out a great spot to see this match!" Graham grabbed Mark's shoulder, and pulled him away.

"Ugh...duty calls. See you around, Father!" Mark turned, and followed Graham.

"God be with you, Mark!" Simon Peter called out, and quickly realised his blunder as many turned their heads.

The three sat down, and Kitchener began to mutter.

"Remember, no fool-hardy challenging this Gundam to a fight like last time. Of course, it'll be difficult with Crusade Gundam being in Neo-England and all..." Mark felt like banging his head against a wall for roughly the seventh time that day. Haro began to make noises, and spun about on Graham's lap.

"Mark is irritated! Mark is irritated!" Mark put his head into his hands. Kitchener sniggered a little, and folded his arms.

"Taking a while to start this match, aren't they?" Kitchener loudly complained. Mark begged Graham to put a cork into his mouth, but his pleadings were to no avail. Luckily for all of them, the unmistakeable sounds of Gundams making their first moves sound became audible. Into the arena, two large mecha stood before each other.

On one side, the Gundam Abaddon. The white, seraphic wings covered the Gundam's body and head as it marched into the arena, and cloaked its appearance from all. Suddenly, it unfolded them in a single spectacular motion, dazzling all with its grandiose appearance. The body was a shade of purple/blue, in the form of chest-plate armour, and a covering of white. The light shimmered as it reflected from the armour-plating, lending a mystical air to this mecha.

On the opposite end, the Gundam Khan. A stark contrast to the elegant and polished exterior of the Gundam Abaddon, this Gundam was a dark and murky mix of brown, black, and red. Bulky in appearance, it lacked the definitive grace of its opponent, but possessed a rugged charm all its own. In order to compensate for the lack of speed, it was covered in heavy armour, and the feet had been specially prepared to hold down onto any terrain via special harnesses built into the feet.

There was relative silence between these two opponents, no witty banter, no greetings, not even a simple self-introduction. The tension hung heavily in the air. Slowly, Gundam Abaddon moved, positioning into a fighting stance. Gundam Khan responded in kind.

Seconds slowly ticked by. During this moment, all conversation between the fighters was strictly between them. For many, this was the tensest moment of the fight. Much like in ancient hunting rituals, many believed that the waiting was always harder than the battle itself. The audience certainly felt that way.

"GUNDAM FIGHT!"

"READY!"

"GOOOOOOOO!"

The initial clash was surprisingly weak. Gundam Abaddon surged forward, but broke away on contact, and fired the shoulder vulcans, hoping to soften the armour. Despite this, the Gundam Khan charged forwards, swinging its axe wildly. The audience shuddered, hearing the berserk war-cry of the fighter inside. However, this assault was clumsy, and ill-prepared. The Gundam Abaddon simply covered itself in one of the wings, and repelled the attack. This was followed by the mecha leaping into the air, and hovering just above the head of the Gundam Khan.

Many were quite surprised at the lack of communication between the fighters. The Neo-Mongolian was very vocal; yelling crude insults, and taunts, but the Neo-Israelian had remained completely tight-lipped throughout the entire fight. This had been observed in its previous fights, and some theorised it was a tactic designed to unnerve the opponent. Mark took special note, remembering hearing something about how Gundam Fights communicate with their fists, rather than words.

With the Gundam Abaddon floating just above the Gundam Khan's head, the fight had entered an entirely new level. Those who had watched previous fights knew this was the moment when the angelic Gundam would start on the offensive. Victory was guaranteed within the minute, now.

Its first move was to reveal the angelic blade, glowing with seraphic energy. Such was its strength, it managed to cleave the armour off with the minimum of ease. Gundam Khan stumbled around, swinging wildly, desperately trying to hit, but to no avail. Suddenly, the Gundam Abaddon's eyes began to glow: Again, everybody knew what would happen here. Diving down with incredible speed, it grabbed the Gundam Khan, and held it into the air. The sword, held in its other hand, turned black, and crackled with energy. With incredible speed, the head of Gundam Khan was sliced off in a single, quick motion. If anybody had blinked at the point, they'd have missed it.

Unusually, there was never any cheering when Neo-Israel won a fight, this year. Instead, the audience remained stunned into silence. Mark, on the other hand, bit his lip.

"So...that's what they want." He got up, and began to leave the arena. "C'mon guys, I've got the message." Kitchener smiled, twiddled with his moustache a little, and gave Graham a 'told you' look. Graham remained seated, however.

"Hey guys, wait, the fighter's coming out!" His appeal was a little too late, as they had walked out of earshot. Graham shrugged, and looked into the arena. On the cockpit of Gundam Abaddon stood a woman with long black hair, and an expression on her face that seemed to show...disappointment? Graham simply whistled. "What a looker! I'll bet Mark will kick himself when he hears about this..."


	9. VS NeoZaire's Congo Gundam

"George's Cross!" Mark lunged forward, and swiftly decapitated his opponent. Some two months after the visit to Neo-Israel, Mark had entered into a Gundam Fight with the representative of Neo-Spain, the Flamenco Gundam. A skilled opponent, Mark found himself under fire from beam castanets, trapping him in a field of pure energy. It was only with the use of the beam lance as a hurled to mount a rear attack that Mark had turned defeat into victory.

The head of the Flamenco Gundam, a result of form over function, slowly rolled on the Neo-England arena floor. For once, it wasn't raining, and was actually an example of British sunshine which was a rarity. The crowds erupted into applause, and the two fighters climbed out of their Gundams. They walked towards each other, and shook hands. Mark smiled, and knew that his opponent was one of the few 'great' fighters out there; a man who was genuine in personality, and true to his nation.

"It is a shame, my friend, that we shall not be meeting in the finals, hm?" The Spanish fighter chuckled.

"I know. But you were too damn good, I couldn't stop you otherwise!" Mark laughed in response. The Neo-Spain crew quickly swept away the Gundam, and within the hour, the arena was left as it was the day before. Mark had been taken to see Barclay for a briefing.

As he was pushed down the hallway by Kitchener, Mark could feel a lump in his throat develop. He had realised over the past months that his attitude was out of order, especially to the man who had raised him as his son. Granted, he had been choked by a lack of freedom, but Barclay's position was tenuous; if he failed in the risky decision of putting Mark in over Graham as the Neo-England representative, his ministry would be in serious trouble, and he wouldn't last another election.

He softly knocked at the door to Barclay's office.

"Come in, Mark," he responded. Mark stepped inside, closely followed by Kitchener, who was eager to hear Mark getting chewed out. He was swiftly turned away by Barclay.

"So...What did you want to see me for, sir?" Mark struggled to keep his eyes from the floor. Although he would never admit it, he felt ashamed by his actions during his time as a Gundam Fighter. The rash fight with the Texas Gundam. Open ignorance of orders from his superiors. He'd begun to wonder if Graham, being properly trained in a military environment, would have suited this role any better.

"Mark...I was pleased with your performance today. You've clearly matured over the past weeks."

"Sir...I..."

"Let me finish. While your fighting style still requires polish...you came through for us. I'm proud of you...son." Those last words caused Mark to raise his head. He could feel a tear slowly well up in his eye.

"...Dad?" It was the first time Mark had ever called Barclay, his adoptive father, 'dad'. Barclay blinked in surprise at this, and got up.

"Mark? Did I...hear you right?" He received no response. Tenderly, the two embraced, clutching each other with all the love of reconciliation.

Hours passed. Mark lay in bed, later at night, thinking about his future. Gundam Fight or not, he wasn't sure what he wanted to do next. It was only a few short months until the Final Battle. He felt lucky to still be in the Survival Elevens. However, many opponents still waited to be challenged. And, of course, provided he did get to the Final Battle, the Neo-Australian fighter was a seasoned veteran. Mark didn't know if he was up to the challenge. But he knew he had to try. For his friends, for his 'father'. He knew he couldn't betray their trust in him, not now, not with his newfound sense of purpose. He thought long and hard about his next opponent. Many opponents still wandered the Earth, and Mark knew they could only be stronger than his previous combatants. He tried to put such worries from his mind as he slept into the night.

Neo-Zaire was always warm. Part of the perks of living near the equator, Bahari Tomo always joked. That said, he never really relished living in such warmth. Possibly part of his unusual nature. Or at least his reasoning for challenging Gundam Fighters in the northern hemisphere. As the Gundam Fighter for Neo-Zaire, he always got to travel, one of his great loves, and also to enjoy colder climates. He had made a name for himself in the Gundam Fight community by soundly defeating the Banshee Gundam of Neo-Ireland within a minute. However, his other matches were all draws. Neo-Russia's Tsar Gundam. Neo-China's Phoenix Gundam. He had yet to know another victory, and was constantly searching for a means to better himself.

All this was why he was now heading towards Neo-England. A northern, colder climate. A Gundam Fighter who was strong, but still capable of defeat. And, judging by his apparent refusal to challenge the fighter for Neo-Israel, despite his presence there, he too was looking for a means to improve his skills. This battle could be very beneficial...

Morning. Mark awoke calmly, for the first time in weeks. He felt serene, at ease with himself, following the events of the day before. After washing up, he went to see Kitchener, to discuss their next move. Upon entering his office, he was surprised to see the room was filled. Barclay stood, shaking the hand of a stranger, a tall black man, while Kitchener stood, arms folded as always, in the corner with a grim look on his face. Barclay turned to see Mark, and smiled.

"Mark! It's good to see you," he greeted, "it appears you've got a challenger today!" The man walked up to Mark, grabbed both of his hands, and shook eagerly.

"I am Bahari Tomo, of Neo-Zaire. It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Anderson." His voice was warm, and friendly. Mark could feel in his handshake a man who was the pride of his nation, in character as well as fighting.

"It's good to meet you too, Mr. Tomo," Mark responded. "I assume you're here to challenge me?" Bahari chuckled.

"But of course! I have heard much about your exploits, and I wish to test myself against you," Bahari said. "My skills are in danger of growing rusty, and I require a good work out."

"Funnily enough, I feel the same," Mark replied. "Shall we start now?"

Some hours passed. The two fighters now stood in the arena, facing each-other, ready for battle. Mark looked towards his opponent, the Congo Gundam. Massive in size and stature, it resembled a gorilla in appearance, and even the fighting style Bahari adopted was based around a gorilla's slumping walk. Mark opened up the secure channel in his MTS, and called to Graham.

"Got any info on this guy?"

"He's pretty strong, and pretty agile," Graham replied. "He's only won one fight, but drawn all the others."

"Thanks pal. Now, let's get to business!" Mark shut off the mic, and clenched his fists.

"Gundam Fight!"

"Ready!"

"Gooo!" The two fighters surged forward, and began to circle each other, waiting for an opportunity to launch a winning blow. Mark withdrew his lance, and held it forward, keeping the Congo Gundam at bay. However, Bahari leapt up with the grace and skill of the animal his Gundam imitated, and landed behind Mark. Before he could turn around to strike, Bahari swiftly kicked the back of the Crusade Gundam, knocking it to the floor. Mark tried to get up in time, but found the considerable weight of the Congo Gundam bearing down on his back.

"Mark!" Graham called out to him. "You're weakening pretty fast! You gotta get up before he snaps your spine!"

"Lovely..." Mark muttered. "Any gaps in his technique?"

"None so far. Your best bet is to try and roll out of the way!"

Mark tried to act on his friend's advice, but to no avail. The Congo Gundam was too heavy for his strength to overcome in this situation.

"Come on! You're capable of much more than this!" Bahari called out. "What have you been doing these past months, training, or sleeping?"

"You'll...see..." Mark groaned. Suddenly, an idea popped into his head. Despite laying face down, and feeling the earth press against him more and more, he saw his hands could still grasp something. With this in mind, he activated the George's Cross. The sudden burst of energy reacted with the ground, violently exploding. This created a sudden imbalance in the Congo Gundam's position, allowing Mark time to quickly get onto his feet.

Bahari shook his head. Dust blocked his vision, and all he could see was the silhouette of the Crusade Gundam, and the glowing red energy of the George's Cross.

"That was quite the technique. But you're forgetting one thing," Bahari growled. "You can't use it without an arm!" With an insane burst of speed, the Congo Gundam jolted forward, and grabbed hold of the Crusade Gundam's right arm. The intense weight tore the arm from its socket, causing Mark to scream in pain. Graham uttered a surprised cry, and quickly contacted Mark again.

"Mark! Are you ok?"

"I'll live. So, this guy's clearly stronger than me. How the hell do I beat him?"

"You'll have to use your lance, and get him at a distance."

"With my left hand? We've never practised that..."

"No time like the present. Just keep your distance, and watch out for his speed."

Mark leapt back, while Bahari tossed the arm away. The lance laid to the ground a short distance away, but so did the Congo Gundam. Bahari chuckled, and leapt towards Mark.

"You should give up. Your main weapon is useless without both arms, and I remain unharmed," Bahari taunted.

"Oh yeah?" Mark had been waiting for such an assault. He quickly ducked under the flailing limbs of the Congo Gundam, and grabbed a leg. While not of the strength to pull it off, Mark could still slow him down with this. While Bahari got up, Mark had grabbed the lance, and rammed it into the mid section of the Congo Gundam with all his might.

Seconds passed like minutes for Mark. Had his ploy worked? Was the Congo Gundam still able to fight? Bahari grunted as he tried to pull himself up. However, his legs were unable to move. As this revelation slowly came to him, Bahari sighed.

"You win, Mark Anderson. Congratulations." Mark blinked. He'd won. Even after losing an arm. Graham breathed a sigh of relief. It was about time his advice helped Mark towards a victory. Bahari slowly climbed out of his Gundam, and waved towards Mark.

"Mark Anderson! I wish to talk to you!" Mark got out, and came over to see him.

"What is it?"

"That was my first loss. It is now painfully evident to me that my training is not all it could be," Bahari bitterly remarked. "Are you in need of a training partner?"

Mark blinked again. This was strange. Even stranger, it was the answer to his previous woes.

"Yes, I do. Are you offering...?"

"Well then! It is decided! We shall train together until the Final Battle!" Bahari proclaimed, his powerful voice echoing throughout the arena. This announcement was the source of much discontent in Kitchener...

"What? Is this a joke? How can he be helping an opponent like that?" He spluttered. "Prime Minister! Do something!"

"Now now, my dear general...This could be beneficial to Mark. Remember, you were complaining about the destruction of your Casshings, and Mark's apathy towards that training programme? This could work out very well," Barclay stroked his chin. "Very well indeed..."


	10. NeoRomania VS NeoHaiti's Hougnan Gundam

Cold. Always the cold. These thoughts penetrated Vlad's mind as he left the core lander, finally back on home soil. His travels had taken him everywhere from Neo-England to Neo-Italy, different climates, different cultures, different people. He shuddered as he slipped on his fur jacket, having become unused to the chill. As he walked out, military officials and journalists swarmed him, begging for an interview, congratulating him for his success, anything to get his attention. His expression was one of cold apathy: He continued walking, ignoring the crowds of people surrounding him. Gradually, the crowd dispersed, leaving him with only a single female reporter following. He brushed aside all her questions, making no audible or physical response. Within half an hour of walking, he came across a hospital. The reporter remained still, begging for a reply of any kind. Shortly before he entered the hospital doors, the reporter made one final question.

"Mr. Dima, please, tell your fans what your next move is to be! And why are you moving with such intensity towards this hospital? Is somebody you know in it?" Vlad turned sharply, and grabbed the woman by the throat. Raising her in the air, he grit his teeth and grimaced.

"I thought I had made it clear that I wish to be alone. But you parasites insisted on pestering me. So go ahead. Write your fluff about how I nearly killed you. Just remember I'm this stinking hole's last chance for glory. "Vlad dropped the reporter, and watched her scurry off, coughing. He spat on the ground, and entered the hospital.

Ignoring the cries of the orderlies, he strode towards a specific room, and met with a doctor outside.

"Doctor...her condition?"

"I'm sorry, Vlad. There has been no change."

"I understand." The doctor stood to the side, and let Vlad enter. The room was small and cramped. The shelves were in disarray, with half empty bottles and spilt pills littering the counters. The only item of note was a bed. With a woman in it. He knelt down by the bed, and held her hand. Still cold. How he hated the cold.

"Hello Valeria. I've returned." He softly, tenderly, he stroked the hand, and closed his eyes. "I've done well. Only two draws, all the rest wins with decapitation." He started to chuckle slightly. "I'm almost there. I'll prove myself true to your words, my love." He got up, and exited the hospital. A solitary tear trickled down his cheek.

"Unacceptable, Vlad! Simply unacceptable!" The following morning, Vlad found himself chewed out by the military chief of staff, General Dimitri.

"What is, general?" Vlad's voice was tinged with disgust. Vlad despised the people he worked with. Parasites, he called them, always wanting something, never giving.

"These two draws, that's what! Neo-England and Neo-Cuba! Our test data indicates that your Gundam had the power to smash both of these with no trouble at all! And yet, you fail to even scratch them!"

"Your test data also says my wife should be dead." Vlad bitterly spat out. "Your test data also says that the Impaler Gundam's pilot was perfectly sane." With that last sentence, Dimitri grabbed Vlad by his collar, and began to seethe with rage.

"You have no right to talk about Lieutenant Ivan! He was a good man, a proud man! You? You're..." He hesitated to say the word.

"Say it, General. A commoner. That's what you want to say, isn't it?" Dimitri remained silent. Vlad got up. "I'm leaving. I plan to spend the next month in rest. The past 5 months have been quite tiring." As he left, he felt a chill in his bones. He hated pleading with people who have hearts of ice.

As he drove towards his country home, he admired the surroundings. The Neo-Romanian countryside was still the most beautiful he had ever seen in his life. Vlad appreciated the simple things in life. His beginnings as a humble farm boy remained the happiest memories. He remembered spending his days tending the cattle, and sowing the crops for next year's harvest with glee. After a hard day at work, he would read avidly, always seeking to better himself. Perhaps the reading is what led him to leave his home, to find work in the city of Bucharest. His family, although sad to see him go, were pleased to see him make something of himself. He met his wife, Valeria, and they married within a year of living there. He found employment as a member of the Territorial Army, but despite exceptional performance, he found himself unable to exceed the rank of private. He didn't mind, however. He was happy with life.

Until four years ago.

The 17th Gundam Fight was well underway. The Impaler Gundam of Neo-Romania, piloted by his superior, Lieutenant Ivan, was battling Neo-Nepal's Ganesh Gundam, in the final months of the Survival Eleven. Suddenly, as Ivan was about to use the Gundam's strongest attack, his mind snapped, and he went on a rampage. The Neo-Nepal fighter was brutally killed, and the former general tore his way through Bucharest, destroying all he came across. One home he destroyed was Vlad's own. Vlad was with the Gundam Fight crew at this point, meaning he could not get home in time to reach his wife. This proved almost fatal.

He arrived to find Valeria under a wall, barely conscious. Managing to summon the strength he had developed as a farm hand, he pushed the wall from over her, and cradled her near-lifeless body in his arms. She looked up at her benefactor, and smiled.

"My husband...is the strongest man in the world..." Those were her last words. Although not dead, she fell into a coma. One from which she was yet to recover. Vlad decided, on that day, to prove himself to her words. And what better way than by winning the Gundam Fight?

As he parked his core lander, he saw a strange looking man up at the door. This person was attired strangely, with what appeared to be animal skins draped around his scrawny body. He carried a staff with skulls and snake-like patterns predominant. Vlad approached this man with caution.

"Excuse me, are you looking for somebody?" Vlad called out.

"I am Ahanu Yanisen, Gundam Fighter for Neo-Haiti. I am looking for Vlad Dima." This fighter's face shocked Vlad. Skin appeared to be hanging from the bone, and his hair was white and frizzy. Vlad double-checked. Surely this mess of a person couldn't be a Gundam Fighter?

"I am he. What business do you have with me?"

"Ah, perfect. Fire at will, men." Ahanu raised his arm, and Vlad found himself under assault from thousands of darts. They came from all directions, indicating an ambush.

"What is the meaning of this?"

"Well, the best way to win a fight is by killing the fighter, hm? No chance of him coming back. Nothing person, all orders, you see," Ahanu cackled. His laughter was cut short by the apparent ease with which Vlad was dodging the projectiles. "What's wrong? Why aren't they hitting?"

"You should have hired better assassins. Rise, Gundam Eidolon!" Vlad snapped his fingers, and the Gundam rose out from under the ground. Using this momentary distraction, he leapt in, and allowed the MTS to do the rest. "Ahanu Yanisen! I challenge you to a Gundam Fight!"

"Very well! Rise, Hougnan Gundam!" A Gundam with roughly the same appearance as its pilot rose out of the earth, and Ahanu entered. Vlad dialled up General Dimitri in this short breathing space he got.

"General! The Fighter of Neo-Haiti has just challenged me! Raise the beam shielding!" Within seconds, a makeshift beam shield rose from the ground, surrounding the two opponents.

"Ha! Well, you avoided my trap. Which means we'll have to get dirty. Just the way I like it," Ahanu sniggered.

"Enough talk, fool. Let's begin. Gundam Fight!"

"Ready!"

"Goooo!"

Vlad flew forward towards the Hougnan Gundam, only to be sidestepped. Despite its weak appearance, his opponent was faster than any could expect. In response, Ahanu swung his staff around, and cracked the Gundam Eidolon on the back of the neck. Vlad roared in pain, as a surge of pain impacted upon his spine. He leapt away from Ahanu, trying to come up with a plausible strategy.

"It appears brute force isn't the answer here. And that staff seems to be more powerful than I dared imagine. Perhaps..." Vlad grinned as an idea came into his head. Detaching the wings from the Gundam, he commanded them to fly towards the Hougnan Gundam. His plan was to use the wings to distract him, so he can grab and destroy the staff.

Ahanu laughed again as the wings flew towards him. His laugh was barely normal, almost a wicked gurgle, straight from the throat. Vlad heard the laugh, and began to lose his focus as he charged. How can he be laughing at this assault? A two-pronged attack was not something you'd find amusement in, usually. He realised why when Ahanu grabbed the wings a mere metre before they removed the Hougnan Gundam's head.

"Do you know anything of the Hougnan witch doctors, Vlad? They could reanimate the dead. And, I'm glad to say, you're fighting one now." The Hougnan Gundam's fists revealed claws, which he dug into the Gundam Eidolon's wings. Vlad, now being detached from the wings, did not feel any pain, but suddenly felt a part of his mind go cold. "Go, my pretties! Kill!" Suddenly, he hurled the wings at Vlad.

"What! They aren't listening to my commands!" Vlad exclaimed. "What have you done?"

"They're mine now. In retrospect, I'm glad you survived my ambush. I rarely get to kill my opponents first hand...especially with this much fun..." Vlad cried in anger as he grabbed the wings, which were slowly putting more and more pressure onto his hands. Any more, and his hands would be sliced off, along with his head.

"You...you would kill me...for no reason? No purpose?"

"It's like I said before. Business. I don't care who you are, or what you are. I'm just collecting a paycheque. Now, hurry up and die like a good boy." Vlad growled, and tore the wings in two with an inhuman burst of strength.

"How...dare you! You inhuman being! You think so little of human life? You would see yourself in money rather than at peace?" With the wings torn in half, the Hougnan Gundam had lost most of its hold over the Gundam Eidolon in this power struggle. Ahanu raised his staff in self-defence as Vlad hurtled towards him, empowered by rage, fury, and sorrow. "You disgust me! Your very existence is an affront to the name of the Gundam Fight!" His right hand began to glow red, and the very fingertips of the Gundam began sharpened and claw-like. Ahanu spotted this, and desperately tried to block them with the staff, only to see it torn in two. "I can taste your fear. Your black heart finally knows what it has inflicted upon its victims. Now you shall suffer as they have! Kashuu system, activate! Heartbreaker! Strike!" His right hand smashed into the right shoulder of the Hougnan Gundam, which began to slowly drop to its knees.

"What...what have you done? I cannot move!"

"Do you know anything of the vampire legends of Transylvania? They had a stare which could transfix the opponents and sap their will. And, I'm glad to say, I can do just that." He removed his hand from the Gundam, and felt a new power surge in its joints. "Just like those vampires, I too can take your strength from you. Tell me...are you afraid?"

"...never. You can stop me this time. But I'll be back. Oh yes, I'll return, and have your head on a platter! I guarantee!"

"Then you deserve this fate." With a single swift kick, the Hougnan Gundam was decapitated. Vlad's breathing began heavy and laboured. He felt drained, emotionally and physically. No other opponent had been able to get under his skin like that. Within minutes, the Neo-Romania police surrounded the area. He could see the representatives of Neo-Haiti being carried away, hopefully locked up for a long time. He shivered. This fight brought a chill into his bones that he wasn't sure he could remove.

Days passed. Vlad had returned to the hospital, again to visit his wife. He sat by her, and stroked her long, ebony hair.

"My love...I do not know how to tell you this...but...I am afraid. My last battle has been won at a terrible cost. I do not know if I can do this...there are so few good men out there..." His eyes spotted a newspaper. He picked it up, and read the cover. NEO-ENGLAND AND NEO-ZAIRE TO TRAIN TOGETHER? He saw the photo, that of Mark Anderson, and a fighter completely new to him. A smile crept across his lips.

"Mr. Anderson..." He felt warm...


	11. NeoFrance VS NeoIndonesia's Gamelan Gund...

Jean-Luc looked out of the window at the verdant fields outside the palace. He was visiting George De Sand, hoping for some inspiration. His last fight, against the Gundam Caledonia of Neo-Scotland, ended in a draw, but he felt a certain distaste regarding the fight.

"My friend, do not be so hard on yourself. You have exceeded all of our expectations as our fighter. Perhaps your unease is a matter in the head?" George poured them both a glass of wine, and passed Jean-Luc's over to him. "You haven't yet told me of your last fight, you know."

"You're right. Well, as you know, your majesty, I was fighting against Neo-Scotland's Gundam Caledonia...I don't quite know what it was, but his fighting style was incredibly similar to Mark Anderson's."

"The Neo-England fighter?" George inquired.

"Yes, that's right. It felt odd, fighting an exact mirror of Mark...but it also felt humbling. My skills are lacking too much," Jean-Luc sighed. "Am I just wasting my time here, my liege?"

"Jean-Luc...one setback does not mean you will not become a great Gundam Fighter. After all, each time I entered the fight, I lost, remember?" He chuckled. "Many Gundam Fighters do not have the skills to last a single round with their peers, and yet they enter anyway. Why is this? Because they are overconfident, a fatal flaw which can lead to disaster. Jean-Luc...your father was like that." Jean-Luc shuddered. Jean-Pierre Mirabeau's legacy again catching up with him. "You, however, are humble. A trait that few possess these days, and something to be admired. But, you must also remember not to wallow in self-pity. That will also lead to disaster. A perfect balance...that is what a true knight must yearn for, must strive to achieve." Jean-Luc looked at George, and smiled.

"You forget, I'm not a knight. I'm just somebody who wishes to restore honour to his family's name."

"An equally admirable goal. Either way, what I have said counts. I hope I have been of some help to you, Master Mirabeau."

"More than you'd know, your highness." He turned to leave the room.

"Where are you headed now?"

"I'm going to see my mother. It's been a month again."

"Ah. Well, good luck to that. Give her my regards, hm?" He smiled, as he opened the door for Jean-Luc, grace and elegance evident in his every motion. Jean-Luc smiled back, and left. He felt slightly more satisfied, having spoken with George. The former champion of Neo-France always knew what to say to make him feel better. Now, however, came what he affectionately referred to as the 'standoff'.

A few short hours drive outside of Paris led Jean-Luc to his family home, a small cottage from which he remembered his childhood days, spent in carefree happiness with loving parents. He grew proud of his father, a strong man, who desired nothing other than to become the representative of Neo-France in the 13th Gundam Fight.

At least, that was the plan.

Driven by an intense desire to win, and a refusal to accept George De Sand as his superior, Jean-Pierre Mirabeau used the crowd as a buffer, to halt the honourable George's attacks. This tactic resulted in an abrupt halt to the battle by the previous king, George's father-in-law, and the instant dismissal of Jean-Pierre Mirabeau as a Gundam Fighter. However, this led to his rage-fuelled attack, now dubbed the 'Marseilles Tragedy'.

The home had fallen into disrepair over the past twenty years. Where once proud doorframes stood firm, now cracks appeared in the perimeter. Windows were clouded or broken, and paint was stripping from the walls. Inside, however, was the object most damaged: A broken woman.

"Jean-Luc," a shrill voice rang through the halls of the home. "You've returned."

"Maman." Jean-Luc's voice contained no emotion, no love. "How are things? King George asked me to send you his regards."

"Oh, his regards? How nice of him." Jean-Luc entered the front room, and a woman in a chair stared out at him. She clearly hadn't washed in days, her face the very picture of her black heart. "And why hasn't he made amends for killing your father, hm?"

"Maman...please. Papa died long before George purged the DG Cells from him."

"And who do you think told the world that? Oh yes, the man who murdered him!" Jean-Luc wiped his mother's spittle from his cheek. "And why are you working for that murderer anyway? Him and that little slut!"

"Now look here, Maman! Perhaps you might not be able to understand this, but Papa killed scores of people! Countless murders, all because he couldn't admit that he wasn't as good a fighter as George!" Jean-Luc's eyes narrowed. "Perhaps one day you'll realise that the whole reason I'm fighting is to make up for the mistakes he made!" Disgusted, he left the room and slammed the door. He exited, hearing his mother's rantings and ravings.

Evening drew in slowly, indicating the shift from spring to summer. It wasn't long until the Final Battle. Jean-Luc soon returned to his new home, that of the Neo-France palace. As George De Sand was head of the Neo-France Gundam Fight committee, all Gundam Fighters were permitted residence at the palace, to allow for ease of access to training facilities housed within the palace, and as such Jean-Luc took advantage of this offer.

As he drew in slowly to enter the residence, his identity confirmed by guards surrounding, he could make out three figures silhouetted in the doorway. Two were familiar, but one was unknown. One waved to him as he walked up, and he recognised it as George De Sand, and with him Queen Maria Louise.

"Jean-Luc! It is good to see you!" George called out. "We have a guest."

"Is that so?" Jean-Luc replied. His eyes turned to the newcomer. A man, small in stature, stood unconfidently beside the royal couple. His skin was of the eastern persuasion, while his clothes were proud and colourful.

"Jean-Luc Mirabeau?" The stranger inquired. "I am Agum Gumelar, Gundam Fighter for Neo-Indonesia. I have come to challenge you to a Gundam Fight." His voice was shaky, while he carried himself somewhat unsteadily around other people. This irritated Jean-Luc.

"Certainly. But may we battle tomorrow? I need some time to reflect..."

"Yes, yes, of course. I can wait." Agum replied.

"Well, until then, you can stay here, my visiting friend." George pulled out a mobile telephone from his robes, and called for some guards, which promptly arrived. "Prepare a nice room for our challenger here please." The guards nodded curtly, and led Agum to his room. Jean-Luc was pleased to see him leave. George noticed this.

"My liege...there's something about him I don't like..."

"I can't see anything wrong with him," Maria Louise interrupted. "He seems to be the perfect gentleman." George laughed in response.

"Well, if there is any trouble with him, I'm sure my guards can handle it. Besides, there wouldn't be much purpose for him to start anything, right in the heart of my country, hm?" He put an arm around Maria Louise, and the pair began to enter the palace. "Jean-Luc, make sure you're well rested for tomorrow. And remember our little talk earlier, too." Jean-Luc stood alone, and pensive, for a few moments.

Some hours passed, and Jean-Luc found himself unable to sleep. A strange feeling haunted his gut, one which put his mind at unease. He attributed it to his mother, whose ravings seemed to hit harder than usual today. His eyes opened sleepily, and he saw a note on his dresser. It had unusual handwriting, as if from somebody who had only the basic knowledge of the French language. It seemed to request a meeting over the balcony of his room. Jean-Luc was disturbed to find security over his person was so flaccid, but decided to see what he could make of this. Quickly wrapping a dressing gown about himself, he walked to the balcony, to see a face he only met the day prior.

"Jean-Luc Mirabeau?"

"Agum Gumelar? What do you want?"

"I am sorry for waking you up at this time, but I need to talk to you, away from the prying eyes of our countries, as fighter to fighter."

"I'm here now, so say what you want to say."

"I know this may be a hard request but...please, forfeit the match tomorrow." Jean-Luc shook his head, and burst out laughing.

"That's a good one! Now, seriously, what do you want?" The expression on Agum's face soon halted the laughter, and Jean-Luc realised he was serious. "...why?"

"Because...if I lose the match...or even draw...I will suffer the wrath of my government."

"...and you think I won't? I'm sorry, but if you lose, then that's it, I'm afraid."

"Let me tell you my position. Back in Neo-Indonesia, I was a homeless man, one who had ran to the colony to find new work, a new life...but as you might guess, that didn't happen. There was very little call for a man who played the traditional instruments of the home islands. I scraped a living as a street musician for three years, until the Neo-Indonesia government ran especially late with the construction of its latest Gundam. They required a Gundam Fighter. The first man they found was me, on the street, so they took me to save time. I was fed well, I was one of the high society...they treated me with tales of success and glory, they told me of how my participation would lead to a better era for mankind...how could I refuse?" He looked to the sky, at the moon. "Then...I reached Earth."

"To fight?"

"Yes. But I have not done well enough for my government. They want me to win more...so I believed that if I could defeat you, then I would win back their respect."

"So why can't you just accept fate, and let what will be, be? Are you really expecting me to just roll over and accept defeat? You do realise that the Final Battle will have opponents far stronger than me, unwilling to surrender to anything?" His voice began to rise in volume. Whatever Jean-Luc found irritating before had returned with a vengeance.

"So...you are willing to send me back to the street? You are completely secure in knowing you will have condemned another man to death? You're more like your father than you realise..." His sentence was cut off by Jean-Luc's fist hitting his cheek.

"You did not know him. And you chastise me for fighting for my country. What kind of a man are you?"

"A man who has lived in the rubbish for all his life, and refuses to give up that sip of greatness for anybody...I hoped I could reason with you. But obviously you won't listen. So be it." He back flipped over the balcony, and grabbed onto the edge, before climbing down. Jean-Luc found himself staring into space, dumbfounded, for a second time.

Morning came. While breakfasting, Jean-Luc told George of the incident at night.

"That is most peculiar," George remarked, stroking his chin. "I trust you won't be surrendering?"

"Of course...but...I'm just wondering...is it right for me to defeat him? Provided he's telling the truth, that is."

"Jean-Luc, have I ever told you of the time I fought Domon Kashuu during the 13th Fight?" Jean-Luc shook his head in the negative. "Well, officially, I didn't. I had been forced to forfeit the match on the orders of my late father in law..." At this point, Maria Louise sat down to join them, and George coughed.

"What's this about my father?" She inquired.

"I am telling Jean-Luc of the fight with Domon during the 13th Fight. I'm sure you remember?"

"Oh yes...daddy wanted the Rose Gundam in the best condition it could be for the battle royale, so he wouldn't let George fight him. But, then George went and fought him anyway, and daddy realised that a knight's honour was at stake, so he let them finish their fight." She began to delicately shovel food into her mouth. George shook his head, laughing, while Jean-Luc desperately attempted to contain this avalanche of information.

"So...this is relevant..."

"...because it shows you should fight for your principles, Jean-Luc," George finished. "Do what you think is right." Jean-Luc massaged his scalp. Right, he thought. What is right?

The arena in Paris was one of the more extravagant in the world. Modelled in the style of an ancient arena, it offered an air of dignity to the sometimes brutal fights. Jean-Luc appreciated this, and found it always helped to clear his head during battles. In one corner, the Rose Mirage Gundam. A purple and yellow mecha, in the style of his late father's Mirage Gundam, but with the head, beam sabre and shield of the Rose Gundam George De Sand piloted.

In the other, the Gamelan Gundam of Neo-Indonesia. A bizarre design clothed in strange armour, comprising of a single rounded plate on the chest, and two rows of metal bars on the sides, each of irregular length. It wielded a strange stick with a spherical end, which appeared to have no practical use for fighting.

"Jean-Luc Mirabeau! I challenge you to a Gundam Fight!" Agum called out.

"I accept, Agum Gumelar! Gundam Fight!"

"Ready!"

"Gooo!" Jean-Luc leapt backwards, firing missiles to the ground to cover his movements. This was a tactic he had developed over the past months, one which had dealt him much success. However, mid dash, he found himself assaulted by an unusual sound. He fell to the ground, clutching his ears, suddenly undergoing a severe case of vertigo.

"Do you like my music, Jean-Luc? How about my metallophone solo?" He swiftly slid the stick along his sides, creating a dissonant glissando which sent Jean-Luc's senses flying. Jean-Luc staggered about, trying to regain his composure, unable to focus his eyes.

"Damn...something in that music is messing about my head..." He scowled, and tried to pinpoint the source of the sound, when a strong kick to his back knocked him to the floor.

"To think, I offered you the chance of surrender...If I had known what a farce this battle would be, I would never have bothered. Accept your defeat, or face decapitation." Jean-Luc rolled over, and fired a multitude of rose bits out to the Gamelan Gundam.

"Overconfident, aren't you?" As the rose bits whirled around, preventing Agum from striking the gong again, Jean-Luc got to his feet, and raised the beam sabre. "I'm sorry, but you must be defeated. If you hadn't relied so much on your music, you may well have won..." He sliced off the Gamelan Gundam's left arm, and pointed the sabre at its neck. "Surrender."

"No!" Before Jean-Luc could react, Agum quickly performed the metallophone glissando again, knocking Jean-Luc into a daze. He used this opportunity to strike the Rose Mirage Gundam's chest, with a surprising amount of force. Jean-Luc grunted as he crawled to his feet once again, shocked at the willpower being displayed here.

"Still can't accept defeat?" He chuckled, and the shield of the Gundam opened up, unleashing a barrage of missiles and rose bits. "Rose Onslaught! Go!" The sheer force and number of the projectiles forced the Gamelan Gundam to the ground, giving Jean-Luc ample time to rush over and strike. Swirling the sabre above his head, Jean-Luc slammed it into the neck of the opponent, severing it completely. Jean-Luc collapsed, and breathed a sigh of relief. That was one close battle.

"Congratulations, Jean-Luc," said George De Sand a few hours later, as the pair walked towards the palace. "That was a very well done match."

"I'm not so sure, your highness," Jean-Luc replied. "If he wasn't so overconfident during the fight, I could've lost very easily..."

"Don't be so hard on yourself, Jean-Luc. You did well. Oh, that reminds me, I have something I need to tell you..." He opened the door to his office as he said this, only to be confronted with a sight that chilled his heart.

"Hello." Agum stood, armed with a pistol, clutching Maria Louise in his arms, wearing an expression that screamed desperation. "Now...let's change the results of the match, shall we?"

"Don't do it, Agum," Jean-Luc warned. "You think that threatening the queen of Neo-France will help you in any way at all? You'll be a fugitive from the law!"

"The law of Neo-France, not Neo-Indonesia. Now, admit defeat, and you will still have a queen. Otherwise..." He cocked the pistol. That sound was all it took.

George shot forward with an almost animalistic fury, one which he had not manifested in a long time. Seeing his love in danger only brought back bad memories, and he planned on having no more of them. With a single strike, he knocked the pistol from Agum's hand, and quickly pinned him to a wall. Security guards immediately arrived on the scene, hearing the commotion. George delivered Agum to them, and quickly held Maria Louise in his arms.

"It's ok now, my love...do not be afraid...it's all over." He could feel her tears permeate his clothing, but that didn't matter. The one woman who meant the world to him was alive, and that was all that he could care about at this moment in time. Jean-Luc watched Agum get carted away by the guards.

"Feel proud of yourself. I go to my death...because of you..." Those words were the last he heard from Agum, which made him shiver.

"Your majesty...is everything ok? We should really do something about security here, that's twice he's broken in."

"Jean-Luc...you're right. I will get that sorted out as soon as possible. Oh yes, I forgot to tell you..." He handed Jean-Luc a piece of paper. "That has the report from Mark Anderson's last battle. I know you want to fight him again, and I implore you to do so. May you bring Neo-France glory." Jean-Luc nodded, and bowed before the couple. As he left the room, he stroked Maria Louise's hair, softly whispering into her ear. Suddenly, he felt a strange pressure on his right hand.

"My crest..." George looked into Maria Louise's eyes, and sighed. "My love...I must go." He showed her the crest. "I'm needed."


	12. NeoVatican VS NeoIsrael's Gundam Abaddon

AN: Thanks to The Dormouse for the review. Having rewatched the episode in question, I agree that it is largely ambiguous as to whether or not Mirabeau died. However, my theorising is that a) he had gained total control of his Gundam on a molecular level, capable of growing new attatchments to it, hence suggesting that the DG cells had infected his brain. b) The Shuffle Alliance, (before they became the shuffles) had less infection, but the original Shuffles sacrificed their lives to cure them, while George is capable of doing so to Mirabeau (who appears to have had a far worse infection) without any cost to himself. Therefore, I have a feeling that George was merely cleansing a dead body, as for one thing Mirabeau didn't move, or do anything after his defeat (no post-match recriminations, or even being taken away by the Neo-France police) implying that he was dead. However, this is just my theory, and yours has just as much credibility. Anyway, on with the show.

Some months prior to the Final Battle of the 18th Gundam Fight, Gundam fighter Mark Anderson of Neo-England was seen in Neo-Israel, not for the purposes of challenging the Gundam Abaddon, but to observe. During this period of time, Pope Simon Peter the First of Future Century was also there, but for other purposes. He never saw the rest of Simon Peter's stay in Neo-Israel...

Mark Anderson had just met with Simon Peter, and the pair shortly departed company, having exchanged pleasantries. Simon Peter ducked and swerved his way through the crowd, being careful to avoid exposure as the Pope. Despite wearing 'casual' clothing, he could still be picked out by his verbal mannerisms, and his distinctive hair. He was scheduled to meet with the cardinals that comprised his crew in five minutes, and he was making lousy time. This wasn't helped by the swarms of people surrounding him, admirers of the Gundam Abaddon, and people just wanting to say 'hey, aren't you the pope?'

Six minutes later, he found himself in the clearing, in the Neo-Vatican embassy. As he calmly entered, he was greeted by an aged man, wearing purple robes.

"Your holiness! You've made it, thankfully." This was Cardinal Grazny, possibly Simon Peter's closest friend in the world. He was a man who served the Catholic Church his entire life, and most ardently supported his ascension to the Pontiff. A former resident of Neo-Germany, he too shared the largely conservative beliefs that Simon Peter held, which is why he chose him to lead the church, as a 'return to traditional values'. The two often discussed policies together, and it was Grazny who designed the Pope Gundam for Simon Peter's use.

The pair walked down the hallways of the embassy, ready to meet with the rest of the cardinals. As they entered the room, the sounds of muttering were evident, suggesting a mutual impatience.

"I apologise for my delay, friends," Simon Peter said, responding to the mutterings, and sat down at the head of the table. He removed his cap and sunglasses, and put on his smaller reading glasses. "Now then, I trust we are all clear about our policy today?" The response consisted of murmurs. "I assume that's a no. Very well. I am to challenge the Gundam Fighter of this nation, and schedule a battle for tomorrow. We shall determine whether or not this fighter has the right to name itself after one of the Lord's heavenly messengers."

"Very well, your holiness," replied Grazny. "Any further plans for today?"

"Mass at 7pm, as usual. Otherwise, free to do as you please. God be with you." He rose, and exited to his quarters. He planned to meet the fighter in full attire, rather than the shoddy clothes he wore to avoid unnecessary interference from the locals. Hopefully it would make quite the impression on the fighter.

Following the defeat of the Gundam Khan, the Neo-Israel crew withdrew the Gundam Abaddon from the arena, while the fighter exited to her own abode. She slowly opened the door, feeling somewhat down. She had hoped to see Mark Anderson today, or even to fight him. Ever since she first saw him at St Peter's Square, she could not help but think about him fondly. She didn't quite understand why. She had been trained in the role of Gundam fighter for Neo-Israel since the age of 17, having the various training regimens drilled into her on a near daily basis. The fight was all she knew, and all she could care about. Save him.

Trying to rid such thoughts from her head and she walked in, she was stunned by the appearance of the Pope in her room. Instantly obeying respectful obligation, she dropped to her knees, and genuflected before him.

"Rise, child," Simon Peter commanded. It felt weird calling her a 'child', as he was only two or three years older than her. "I have come to see you, Talia Esau." She got up, and motioned for him to sit down. "Thank you. Now then...They had king over them the angel of the Abyss, whose name in Hebrew is Abaddon..." He looked up, over his glasses. "I assume you're familiar with that verse from Revelations, hm?" She shook her head. "Interesting...the point of the matter is you are fighting in the name of the Lord's chosen guardian of death. I know not your country's intentions, but I must request an immediate halt to this. God's messengers are His alone, and to use their name in this manner is tantamount of blasphemy. I understand if you think is harsh, but we are humans, not angels. It is not right to use their names to fill ourselves with glory." He rose, and prepared to leave. "I challenge you to a Gundam Fight. Send a message to our embassy here if you are willing to accept. Then we shall see if you are worthy of the name Abaddon."

The following day, Simon Peter awoke to find that Neo-Israel had responded to the challenge, and scheduled a fight for that day. He smiled, and proceeded to prepare for the upcoming match.

Hours later, the arena was prepared for this battle. The Gundam Abaddon, and Talia inside, stood proudly, awaiting its opponent. Then, as per usual, the sound of chorale music flooded the arena, signifying the Pope Gundam's arrival. It splendidly entered, rays of sunlight bursting through, illuminating the massive Gundams perfectly.

"I see you have made no change to your Gundam's name. So be it. Gundam Fight!" He received no response from Talia, but instead the Neo-Israel crew made the reply.

"Ready!"

"Gooo!" The two mecha charged towards each other. However, the Gundam Abaddon retreated just as quickly, firing the vulcans at the Pope Gundam to slow it down. However, they were too weak to do any significant damage, or to halt the Pope Gundam's charge. Instead, Simon Peter swirled the staff above his head, and deflected any bullets back towards the Gundam Abaddon. This tactic was quickly countered by Talia willing the Gundam to fly, hence gaining a range and manoeuvrability advantage over the slower and bulkier Pope Gundam. Simon Peter knew this too, and prepared his Holy Stigmata attack to clip the angel's wings, so to speak. She dived in to attack, expertly dodging the spiked projectiles that Simon Peter hurled with deadly accuracy. He saw her prepare the Sword of Death, easily the Gundam Abaddon's most powerful attack, and began to quickly plan a counter strategy. The black energy swirling around the Gundam's sword would have caused any lesser fighter to freeze in fear, but Simon Peter was empowered by his faith in God.

"Yea, though I walk through the valley of death, I shall fear no evil…for you are with me. Your rod and your staff…they shall comfort me," he softly whispered to himself as he saw the sword bear down upon him. Suddenly, an idea popped into his head. He figured that the Gundam Abaddon couldn't dodge his Holy Stigmata at point blank range, and that would be the perfect time to strike, and thus send the opponent crashing back down to the ground. However, this was an exceptionally risky tactic, as the chances of getting sliced were high.

The Sword of Death flashed different colours as it hurtled towards the Pope Gundam, which stood firm as a rock, unyielding in the face of defeat. Here was Simon Peter living up to his papal duties as none could ever have believed. The Pope Gundam's hands began to glow red, and Simon Peter tensed his muscles, ready to make a last minute dodge and bring in a victory. Talia had gotten into striking distance, after the longest two seconds in history, and swung the sword at the Pope Gundam. Simon Peter dodged the slash, and prepared to hurl the Stigmata, only to find the Gundam Abaddon had swiftly circled him, and before he knew it, his Gundam's legs had been sheared off.

The Pope Gundam's torso rolled about on the sands of the arena, and Simon Peter, struck with shock at this unexpected development, couldn't speak. The sword now hung above the Gundam's neck, ready to deal the finishing blow.

"I…yield, Talia. This match is yours," Simon Peter choked. The sword rose in response, and he breathed a sigh of relief. "I may not agree with your decision to use the name Abaddon, but I see now your worthiness to such a name." Talia smiled in response, and picked up the torso, in a gesture of friendship.

Simon Peter exited his Gundam, feeling slightly irritated by his swift defeat. He wondered just how his fellow men of the church would take this failing, after all his bluster the day before. These thoughts troubled him as he stripped from his MTS, and into the papal robes. As he left the changing room, however, a sudden blow from behind knocked him out. When he came to, he was surrounded by unfamiliar faces. Each and every one was a high-ranking member of the Neo-Israel government.

"Pope Simon Peter the First of Future Century," a commanding male voice stated, "Do you know why you are here?"

"I do not even know where I am! Who are you? Why am I here?"

"Quiet! You are here because you have had the audacity to dictate what our proud nation can or cannot do!"

"And since when was your nation above God's moral laws?"

"You are in no position to argue with us!" Simon Peter felt a pistol's barrel against the side of his head. "You have to understand, you are from a lesser nation. We do not have to take the kind of insult you gave us. Hence, you are to be eliminated."

"Merely for questioning your Gundam's name? What kind of nation would kill a man for that?"

"Your influence as the head of the Catholic church means soon many people could be drawn to your thinking. It may well be that our nation could suffer the backlash of protest. That would be deadly, considering the great chances our Gundam has of winning the tournament." A man stepped out of the shadows, dressed in the typical businessman's attire, and carrying a pistol. "We are going to rule the world, Simon Peter. Nobody can stop us."

"There is one…" Simon Peter spat out. "When you reach the final battle, you will know defeat at the hands of one man…"

"Let me guess…Neo-England? The only one to beat you so far? Don't make me laugh. That whelp could barely handle Neo-France, and that Gundam is barely second tier. When he meets our Gundam…he shall suffer."

Suddenly, a door behind Simon Peter burst open. His captors were audibly shocked, and had to alter their priorities.

"Talia! What do you think you are doing?" His response was a fist in the jaw. The rest of this man's entourage quickly surrendered themselves, knowing full well the extent of her power. She quickly untied Simon Peter, who was clearly shocked by the entire matter.

"Thank you. Not to seem ungrateful, but why are you doing this? Surely you will receive a severe backlash from your nation's government for this?" She shook her head. One of the assailants began to laugh.

"Well…it looks like the brainwave scans were right, friends…" He coughed, and crawled to his feet. "She does care for someone. Anybody else notice how angrily she reacted upon hearing how she's going to make Neo-England pay?" He received a kick in the chest for such remarks. She was about to give him another strike, when Simon Peter grabbed her wrist.

"Don't. He'll receive retribution soon enough. We should concentrate solely on getting out of here." Talia looked to him, and nodded. Her eyes were filled with sadness, and Simon Peter noted this. "What about you? You're going against your government here…they won't take this lying down."

"You're correct, Your Holiness. However, they would know better than to punish their greatest Gundam Fight since the early years." A man, wearing the same government robes as the officials now lying unconscious walked in, and put his arms around Talia. "I am Caleb Esau, Talia's father. I currently hold the position of Minister of Defence in our government…at least, I should."

"I'm afraid I do not understand…but we must be going." Simon Peter looked to the floor. "These would-be assailants are starting to recover."

"Come with me." Caleb beckoned to him, and they entered a small room a few short moments away from the interrogation chamber. As they sat down at a table, Caleb put his head into his hands. "That was too close."

"What do you mean?"

"Our country…has been executing Gundam Fights that fall in battle. It was decided, after Talia had begun training as a Gundam Fighter, as a safety measure…"

Simon Peter stroked his chin. That would explain the disappearance of the Neo-Mongolian Fighter, at least.

"I have been against this since the start, but our Prime Minister, a man named Abdul Alzhared, has become drunk with power…he knows his position is based entirely upon the results of this Gundam Fight."

"And I assume that the rest of the ministry is comprised of sycophants, all wishing to gain power for themselves?"

"You are correct, Your Holiness." He shuddered as a loud noise came from the door, a heavy thudding. Talia got to the door, and held it back. "Damn! Quickly, through here," Caleb shouted, struggling to make himself heard over the noise. "This basement will lead you outside. You'll be free."

"What about yourselves? I won't leave you here to die!"

"If I give my life to save the one man who can help our troubled country, then it won't have been in vain. Now go! Hurry!" He pushed Simon Peter into the passageway, and then turned to see his daughter being held by some old friends.

"Not a smart move, minister. It looks like your career is going to end with a bang, now." The Prime Minister, a man of small stature and unimposing physique, grimaced. "You dare threaten our country? You're a traitor! A traitor!" His voice rose, and began to alter in tone, a twinge of insanity starting to set in. "Your daughter will live until she has won the fight for us. As for you…" Caleb's face grew pale.

Simon Peter was glad to finally see daylight, but he remained perturbed. He had managed to contact his cardinals, but he knew it would be impossible to stop the entire government with just them. It was something the entire Catholic Church could do, however. He quickly ran over in his mind every opponent he had fought, and planned to focus his cyclicals upon condemning the government. Meanwhile, he could travel the world, and recruit fighters to help him against the corruption.

That was the plan. With few exceptions, nobody wished to involve themselves in another government's affairs. There were no regulations against executing other Gundam Fighters, bizarrely, and there was little chance of anybody risking their own neck for somebody they didn't know.

Simon Peter sighed, as he passed over countless vales and hills, heading towards a certain destination. He was surprised he'd left this country until last, especially considering what he'd learned in Neo-Israel. All those months of searching, and he'd completely forgotten.

"Just wait, Talia. Mark Anderson will help, I know it…"


	13. VS NeoScotland's Caledonia Gundam

A/N: Thanks to Asuran Chang for the review. Regarding the names of the Neo-Israel government, I had no intention to reflect current situations in the Middle East, I merely chose names which reflected the culture of the nation. Any reflection of current events is purely coincidental.

Mark sat up, and watched the waves wash against the beach. The rushing waters belied the otherwise serene nature of the day, wherein the sun shone, and the air was otherwise fairly still. The ever-changing British weather often led to sunny days like this one, which caused Bahari Tomo some consternation.

The pair had travelled to the south east of England for a break. For the past few months, they had trained intensely together, undisturbed by Gundam Fights. Each developed new techniques, new fighting styles, and in some ways they were eager to try these out on another opponent. However, they sorely needed a break, so Mark, Graham, Bahari and Haro had headed to a seaside resort town named Margate, just off of the coast of France, for relaxation.

That was the last thing on Mark's mind as a beach ball hit him squarely in the face.

"Alright, who threw that?" Mark picked himself up, and dusted sand off of the book he was reading. "Own up, or I'll get Haro to find out." Bahari laughed aloud, evidently amused.

"I am sorry, Mark! Graham should have caught it!"

"What? If I caught that, I'd have broken my arm!" Graham exclaimed. He wasn't far from the truth. Bahari was dangerous whenever it came to competition, even if said competition involved throwing a beach ball about. With his incredible strength, a simple game of catch could become a life or death scenario for the untrained.

"I thought you weren't a fan of the sun anyway, Bahari…" Mark muttered, as he spat out some sand.

"No, but this is barely sunshine compared to Neo-Zaire, my friend. If you find this hot, you would cook in my homeland." Bahari chuckled. His jovial façade belied the heart of a real fighter, serious-minded in battle, and a deadly foe. These thoughts troubled Mark. Victory seemed more and more a distant dream in the light of such great fighters.

"So, now we've narrowly avoided injury…what next?" Graham picked up the ball, and tossed it to Mark.

"We should probably put away this cannonball here, before Bahari kills somebody," Mark joked, "and probably have something to eat. I'm getting hungry."

"Ah yes, because all that sitting around with Haro will tire you out." Graham grinned. "Alright, I'll get the barbeque running." He walked off to the camp, and Bahari sat by Mark.

"So, you ready for the Final Battle? Only a month to go."

"I guess. That's why I've been reading these articles on previous Gundam Fights." He handed the magazine to Bahari, who studied the cover intensely. However, before he could say anything, a large shadow overlooked the pair.

"Hm, the weather forecast said nothing about clouds…" Bahari mumbled. Mark looked up, and rolled his eyes.

"Some holiday this is turning out to be."

A Gundam stood proudly behind the pair, resplendent in the colours of red and green tartan, apparently dressed in traditional Scottish attire. The chest plate was covered by the blue and white flag of Neo-Scotland. It was fairly obvious where this fighter came from.

"Mark Anderson! I challenge you to a Gundam Fight!"

"Tough. I'm on holiday." Mark called back. "We'll fight in the Final Battle."

"Very well." The Gundam stamped on the floor, knocking both Mark and Bahari over. "You recognise this man?" The Gundam's hand opened up, revealing the unconscious body of Graham.

"Damn you…" Mark growled. "Pretty cowardly of you, forcing me to fight like this. I accept." He quickly ran to his core lander, and summoned his Gundam. The Crusade Gundam rose from the beach, sand spewing from each nook and cranny, and the core lander joined.

Bahari ran to Graham, and woke him up.

"You ok, Graham?"

"Been better," coughed Graham.

The fight barrier, designed by Neo-Romanian scientists to prevent damage to the Earth following the Second Devil Gundam incident, enveloped the beach from Mark's core lander and the air fizzled with the energy of the beams. This signified that the fight could now begin without harm to innocents.

"Gundam Fight!"

"Ready!"

"Goooo!"

The Gundams began the fight by cautiously circling each other, waiting for one or the other to make a move. Mark noted how this Gundam had very similar equipment to his, with the lance and small shield. The Crusade Gundam was currently equipped with the sword and shield, meaning he lacked the range advantage. But, Mark had developed some new tricks in his training with Bahari.

"Alright, I don't know who you are, but you're going down for threatening my friend!" Mark leapt back, and drew out the George's Cross, albeit a lot smaller.

"Go on, throw your wee cross. You'll ken the strength of Caledonia Gundam soon enough!" These words shocked Mark. How did he know of this new technique? He'd only developed it in the past month, and not in any Gundam Fight, he thought to himself. Now paralysed by indecision, he was open to a sudden lance thrust from the Caledonia Gundam, which pushed him up against the walls of the barrier.

"Agh! Stupid stupid stupid…" Mark muttered to himself, as he picked himself up. He quickly grabbed his sword, and charged forwards, figuring a sudden move like this could unbalance his opponent. However, he was quickly circled by the opponent, using the lance as a pole vault. Again, another new technique.

"Not too bright, are ye?" The fighter laughed. Mark swiftly turned back, and hurled the shield with all his might. Luckily, his opponent couldn't stop it, due to the intense speed of the shield. Now on the floor, Mark leapt onto the Caledonia Gundam, and aimed his sword at the neck of his opponent.

"You were saying? Now, I'd like to know. Where'd you learn all my techniques? Even your weapons are the same as mine."

"Bark your answers in hell, bairn!" He kicked Mark into the air, and rolled out of the way. "Neo-Scotland's ultimate weapon! Andrew's Cross!" In the hands of the Caledonia Gundam, a white energy weapon exactly the same as Mark's George's Cross.

Mark shuddered. His ultimate weapon, his work and design, now in the hands of another. He quickly threw a miniature cross to the Caledonia Gundam's legs, hoping for a quick cripple. While they had nowhere near the same brute power as the full sized cross, they could still deal some damage. However, it just bounced off of the armour, leaving Mark with only a few options.

"Alright. I don't know who you are, why you're doing this, or what your problem is, but this ends now! Neo-England's ultimate weapon! George's Cross!" Now the Crusade Gundam stood resolute, carrying both sword and cross. "Are you ready, Neo-Scotland fighter?"

"Hodge yer wheesht!" The Caledonia Gundam leapt forward, landing on the Crusade's right arm (which held the sword), pinning it down. Mark responded by slashing at the shoulder with the cross. It had been weakened by diverting the power towards producing a smaller cross, but was still capable of shearing a limb off with ease. Mark kicked him off, and stepped back.

"We're too evenly matched," Mark thought to himself. "We're capable of countering each move the other makes. How the hell am I going to beat this guy?"

On the beach, Bahari and Graham watched with fear. All the hard work of the months past seemed completely worthless now, in this fairly pathetic battle, where Mark could do nothing but react.

"I don't get it! I thought he was improving!" Graham yelled. "What the hell is going on?"

"I don't know! He doesn't seem to be fighting as well as he has done in the past!"

"The Crusade Gundam seems slower, too…what if it's been tampered with?"

"Who would do have the means, or the motive?" Bahari then realised. "Oh. I see." Graham tried to avoid thinking of Bahari in such a fashion, but it all made sense. "You don't trust me, Graham?"

"I do…but…" He bit his bottom lip. Bahari couldn't blame him for his suspicions. After a moment of silence, a voice called out.

"I'd have thought Mark Anderson would have improved by now. I guess not." The voice was low, and dark in tone. "Well? Defeat him, Anderson! Don't make my travels worthless!"

Mark, distracted momentarily, looked down at the beach. He could see a black core lander parked by the sea, and a familiar figure standing before it.

"Vlad? What's he doing here?" Mark then focused his attentions on defeating the Caledonia Gundam. It was charging forwards, the fighter roaring wildly. "Let's end this!" He grabbed the sword, and hurled the full power cross at the Caledonia Gundam. As expected, the fighter used the Andrew Cross to deflect it. However, it was in that moment, its guard was let down. Mark rammed the sword with all of his might into the neck section of the Caledonia Gundam, severing the head.

"That's more like it, Anderson," applauded Vlad. Graham and Bahari were less audible in their celebrations, but both breathed a huge sigh of relief.

Mark climbed out of his Gundam, and into the Caledonia Gundam's now-inert frame. He pulled out the fighter, a bearded, red-headed man of about 30, massively muscled.

"Good job, Mark Anderson."

"Who are you?"

"I'm Wullie Johnstone, Neo-Scotland's fighter. What do you want from me?"

"Information." He could hear Graham, Bahari and Vlad run up to meet them. "I'm a gentle man, really. But if you don't speak, I'll have to let my friend Vlad have dinner." Vlad grinned. Instilling fear and terror into others was always a hobby of his, and his vampiric Gundam made that very easy.

"Ye don't scare me. I'll speak though…you want to know why my Gundam's got all your moves, huh?" Mark nodded in response. "I never planned to win that fight. Our country readily gave up all notions of winning exchange for the amount of money we were given."

"A bribe? From whom?"

"Someone in your country…sold us the designs, and I was trained in every detail of your fighting styles, prepared just for this fight."

"Who? Who sold you the designs?"

"It was…" Suddenly, he screamed. His face suddenly distorted, his eyes wildly staring ahead, bloodshot, while his tongue lodged in the back of his throat, saliva dripping from the corner of the mouth. Graham quickly took a pulse reading, and stepped back, dumbfounded.

"He's dead. Looks like his superiors didn't want him spilling the beans."

"Damn! But we need to know who betrayed us!" Mark slammed his fist on the sandy ground. "Who on earth would do this?" Graham's eyes unwittingly shifted towards Bahari.

"I'm afraid I have no help for you, Mr. Anderson. I merely visited to see if I could regain my faith in the Gundam Fight." Vlad grimly responded.

"Why would you, of all people, lose faith, Vlad? You're easily one of the best fighters I've met…" Mark asked, as he and Graham picked up the dead body.

"Look up the records of my last fight. That should tell you all you need to know." It was obvious it was still a sore point, and nobody asked any more.

"Anyway…what do we do now?" Bahari asked.

"First, we'd better contact the PM and see what he thinks of this situation. He and Kitchener better beef up security and do a few background checks, if you ask me," Graham suggested.

"Sounds fair enough to me," Mark replied, as he climbed into the cockpit of the late fighter's Core Lander, placing the body inside. Seeing the body of a man who, mere moments ago, was a deadly enemy now a lifeless doll made Mark feel sick. He clearly didn't commit suicide, whoever was behind this ploy executed him for speaking too much. There was far too much corruption in the Gundam Fight, Mark thought, and it was all essentially legal. This 'controlled war' was just as savage as any armed conflict, but because the bloodshed was behind closed doors it was all ok.

Graham called up Barclay and Kitchener and informed them of this incident. Within the hour, they had reached the beach.

"I cannot believe this," Barclay said. "This is just terrible." He put his hand on Mark's shoulder in a display of affection. "How are you, Mark? You're not hurt, are you?"

"No, I won the fight without any injury. It came pretty close, though."

"Bah. I don't like this one bit," Kitchener muttered. "A security leak, and we have two enemies standing around…and you wonder how this information got out?"

"Yeah, but if we had better security, it wouldn't have happened, huh?" Graham grinned. "The damage is done. We'd better just make sure we don't get any more nasty surprises." Kitchener glared at Vlad and Bahari.

"If it wasn't for the fact that Mark's got Barclay wrapped around his little finger, I'd have some serious words with him…" Kitchener twirled his moustache, and stormed off, writing something onto a clipboard. Graham rolled his eyes and followed. Vlad and Bahari started at each other.

"So, you're the fighter Mark Anderson is training with." Vlad eyed him up like a piece of meat. "You certainly look strong enough."

"And you're the great Vlad? I remember Mark telling me about your fight. He can't wait to fight you again, you know." Bahari grinned, and offered out his hand in a gesture of friendship. Vlad glanced at the hand, and curled his lip in disgust. He folded his arms. Bahari withdrew his hand, and smiled. "You know, I was planning to challenge you after Mark, if he didn't want to train. I can see you would've rejected my fine offer."

"So, why do you fight?"

"Ha ha…you're a funny one, you are. I fight because I love this planet. I love to travel, and being a Gundam Fighter is the best way to travel. For free, no less!" Vlad raised an eyebrow.

"Your sole purpose for fighting is travel?"

"Well, it's not the only reason, but it's the most pleasurable part of the job!" Vlad instantly recognised Bahari as one of those annoying tourists who would wander around his home, wearing a cloak and acting like a vampire. He was all of a sudden a lot gladder that Mark took him in to train. He turned, and walked away. Bahari shrugged his shoulders.

"What a grump."

"Right. We'll deliver this body to Edinburgh, so his government can give him a proper burial. In the meantime, why don't you Gundam Fighters return to London, and get something to eat, huh? I can imagine you're pretty tired." Barclay smiled at Mark, who was stumbling about. "Mark, what's wrong?"

"Feel…a little light headed. Nothing that…won't pass, sir." He put a hand to his forehead, and realised his was sweating terribly. This feeling soon passed, and he shook his head, confused by this sudden bad turn. Suddenly, Kitchener started yelling.

"Mark! What the hell have you been planning here?"

"I'm sorry?"

"We've just received word that the Pope and the fighter from Neo-France have just turned up in London, looking for you! All these Gundam Fighters appearing seems a little too coincidental to me!" Bahari laughed upon hearing this.

"Well, looks like a party's starting! We can't afford to miss this!"

"Anderson, do you mind if I come along? I would like to meet these fighters," Vlad asked.

"I guess. Well, let's get going then guys! Let's see what they want…" Mark and the other fighters leapt into their core landers, and drove off. Graham watched them leave, and felt a twinge in his gut.

"Tell me, general, do you like how Mark's gotten so pally with all these fighters?"

"Heh heh, jealous, are we?"

"No! I…just…think it's a little strange, that's all."

"To be honest, no. I don't like it one bit. He doesn't seem to care that we've had a major security breach, and that our country is being compromised in the greatest ways by allowing all these foreigners in. But, we can't do a thing, not while Barclay is in charge." Graham sighed. He knew he was jealous of Mark, very much so. He knew too well he would never have the same bond with him as fellow Gundam Fighters. He softly waved goodbye, knowing it would be ignored, just he was feeling.


	14. VS War Gundam

Mark glanced over his shoulder, making sure the other fighters were keeping pace with him. The three core landers raced along the country, hoping to get to London in as short a time as possible. Thoughts raced through Mark's mind as to why Jean-Luc and Simon Peter both came to see him. It was all very coincidental, his first three opponents all coming back to visit him, and at the same time, no less. He knew that it couldn't be a trap, as these fighters were above such petty ploys.

"Mark, how much further to London?" Vlad called out.

"Almost there. Just a few minutes more."

Bahari had been unusually quiet since the fight with the Caledonia Gundam. In the past hour, he had been lambasted by two different individuals. He couldn't help but feel slightly sick. His reasons for fighting were now called into question, and he was under suspicion for treachery. Perhaps he wasn't cut out for the Gundam Fight. After all, he'd only one a single fight and he'd been in plenty. The Final Battle seemed more and more of a struggle.

Vlad also remained silent. His thoughts were on his wife, lying in a coma in a hospital bed. Sometimes he wondered why he chose to leave her alone, with the possibility of dying any second, just to fight. He didn't particularly like the superiors who would get into power if he won. However, he soon recalled his wife's last words. He would become the strongest man in the world and prove himself to her. Nothing else mattered.

Mark didn't like this silence. It only forced him to mull over the events that had just passed, which he didn't like one bit. Although he wouldn't admit it, he was beginning to enjoy the Gundam Fight. This little event just reminded him why he hated it in the first place. It only led to death and sadness in the name of a false peace. He thought of his family, and sighed. Was this how he wished to honour them? By actively helping the problem which caused their deaths? He rubbed his forehead, which now ached with the intense weight of responsibility. It hadn't stopped since his funny turn after the fight. He wondered why that had happened, since he was in perfect physical health.

The rain splashed onto the roofs in London. Exactly the same weather as Mark's first fight. The two visitors were waiting in the ruins of Trafalgar Square, surrounded by armed guard. Nationalism was high in Neo-England at this point in time, and foreign fighters could expect a degree of xenophobia.

"Taking their time, aren't they?" Jean-Luc sighed.

"Patience, Jean-Luc. They'll be here. They have to." Simon Peter stood solemnly, firmly, waiting for the first glimpse of hope. He had come to ask Mark for help in liberating Neo-Israel from its tyrannical government that was executing Gundam Fighters, and even its own politicians. Jean-Luc wanted to warn him about the Caledonia Gundam, although he was unwittingly too late to do anything about it. Their wait finally came to a close when three core landers parked beside the ruins, and three Gundam Fighters exited.

"Jean-Luc! Your holiness!" Mark called out. "It's good to see you both!"

"The feeling is mutual, Mark." Jean-Luc replied, as he scrambled over to meet him. "I just wish I could say this visit was for pleasure."

"What's wrong, Jean-Luc?"

"A month back, I fought Neo-Scotland's fighter…"

"Ah." Mark interrupted. "He's dead."

"What?"

"I just fought him, and he was killed by whoever was controlling him." Jean-Luc ran a hand through his hair, and started to laugh.

"Well, I guess my visit was a waste then…unless you wish for a rematch?"

"Now is not a good time, Jean-Luc." Mark's tone of voice made sure that Jean-Luc would keep any questions to himself. Simon Peter walked up, and grabbed Mark's hands.

"It is good to see you again, Mark Anderson. I am sorry for this sudden request, but I am in desperate need of your help." Mark blinked, surprised at the forwardness which Simon Peter was displaying. "Neo-Israel is being ruled by a tyrant. He executes all the Gundam Fighters who lose in battle with their fighter, and if he wins, then our world will enter darkness."

"Whoa! Can we really interfere in another country's affairs? I mean, most countries are corrupt when it comes to the Gundam Fight, why should we pick on Neo-Israel?" Mark shook his head. "Shall we take out Neo-America for its Statue of Liberty Cannon? How about Neo-Russia's prison camps? Why stop at just the one, your holiness?" His voice came out unusually angry. Deep down, he agreed with what Simon Peter was saying, but he knew too well that what he was saying made sense.

"…I see. I'm disappointed, Mark. I'd have hoped you, of all people, would want to help. But I guess I was wrong." Simon Peter turned away, and began to leave. "Good luck in the Gundam Fight. You'll need it against Gundam Abaddon."

His words left Mark with a lump in his throat. Perhaps he should have helped. But there was precious little time before the Final Battle, time which he couldn't spend interfering in another country. Excuses, he thought. All weak and pathetic excuses. Vlad came up behind him, and put his hand on Mark's shoulder.

"Don't. We can deal with that later. Our first and foremost duty is to the Gundam Fight, Anderson." Mark turned to face him, and smiled. Warmth and kindness from Vlad? What next?

"Thanks..." Before Mark could finish his sentence, however, the massive figure of the Pope Gundam came crashing to the ground before them. Before it stood another Gundam, silver in colour, and small in frame. At the shoulders were two massive cannons, and multiple pistol weapons were holstered along the legs. Two beam sabres hung at the sides. It was blank in appearance other than this, looking like a human frame without any decoration.

"Don't even think of moving, Pope." The voice that came from the Gundam was loud, and electronic. Despite this, it still exuded menace. Without saying a word, the Gundam Fighters called up their Gundams, and prepared for battle.

"Right…who the Hell are you?" Mark yelled.

"You can call me War Gundam. I am here to put an end to you all." Without offering anybody a chance to respond, it unleashed a missile swarm from its multiple pistol weapons. These were largely dodged, but the fact remained that this fight could easily spill into a more populated area. Mark turned on the beam barrier, managing to lock the fight into an enclosed space.

"Anybody recognise this guy?" Jean-Luc asked.

"He's not a fighter from any country," Vlad responded. "Look. This Gundam has no marking that make it any particular country."

"Well then, what is it? If it's not a Gundam fighting for a country, who is it fighting for?" Bahari leapt back, avoiding a sudden missile burst.

"I'm fighting for humanity. Try to understand." With this, it unleashed a beam sabre, and charged towards Bahari.

"Hey, don't forget the rest of us!" Jean-Luc rushed to intercept its charge, but when the Rose-Mirage Gundam's hand touched the War Gundam, a high electrical shock tore through it, paralysing Jean-Luc momentarily.

"Stay back, Neo-France! It's obvious this fighter is going to attack us one on one." Vlad grabbed the Rose-Mirage Gundam, and dragged it back. "We can't strike it at this moment, but it can't attack us either, so we can figure out a strategy to defeat it."

"That's what you think," replied the War Gundam, which let out a beam cannon blast from its beam, knocking Vlad to the wall.

"Well, if short range attacks won't work, how about long range?" Jean-Luc, regaining his senses, launched a missile swarm towards the Gundam. However, the War Gundam swiftly turned around and shot each missile out of the sky with consummate ease. Bahari leapt onto its back, with this momentary distraction, and began to pull at the head.

"All your fancy weapons won't help if you've been beheaded fool!" Bahari laughed, and exerted his maximum pressure onto his arms, with the hope that the massive pressure would snap the head with ease.

"You weren't looking, were you?" War Gundam then fired out another blast from its back cannon, which sent the Congo Gundam flying.

"Alright, I'm sick of this! What are you trying to prove here? Who are you working for?" Mark roared, and shot forward, sword in hand, using his shield to block any projectiles. He knocked the War Gundam to the ground, and sliced off most of the pistols using the sword.

"I told you. Humanity." The War Gundam's eyes began to glow, and before Mark could react, two photon beams shot out and knocked Mark off. The War Gundam got up, and looked around. It saw the beaten and tattered mobile fighters before it, and laughed. A soulless, hollow laugh. "That should please him. Some of the top seed Gundam Fighters humbled in under five minutes. Now, to finish the job." Raising a beam sabre, it put one hand onto the Crusade Gundam's head, and prepared to decapitate it.

Suddenly, a blast of flame scorched its hands. While it stumbled about, trying to figure out the unknown assailant, a massive cannonball rammed into it's stomach area, knocking it back more. Then, a combined force of roses and energy fists pushed it against the wall. Finally, another Gundam appeared. This one grabbed the War Gundam by the chest and raised it into the air.

"Heat end."

The War Gundam was shot into the air, and fell back to earth with a loud thud. As it got up, it audibly expressed terror.

"Impossible…"

Rose Gundam. Bolt Gundam. Dragon Gundam. Gundam Maxter. And God Gundam. Whatever the War Gundam was doing, the Shuffle Alliance had come to stop it.


	15. Return of the Shuffle Alliance!

A/N: Many thanks to Sora-sama and jdfj for the reviews. Sora-sama, special thanks for the concrit, it's always good to see how I can improve my writing, and I am looking forward to the next chapter of your fic. jdfj, regarding your questions, here are some answers: Heat End is the move Domon uses after the God Finger in the series: You'll see it in it's proper context in this chapter, don't worry. Also, if you have Gundam Battle Assault 2, it's performed with the commands half-circle backwards, forward, square. :) Neo-Japan's MF will turn up soon (with a hopefully pleasing entrance) and you'll have to wait a while to hear the explanation behind the War and Caledonia Gundams. Mwahahaha.

Whoever was in the War Gundam now knew fear. The God Gundam strode forward, and grabbed the Gundam by the chest-plate, lifting it into the air.

"You know who I am, and what I can do, so don't try anything funny." Domon voice was hard and unyielding. "Why are you attacking this city?"

"You think I'll talk?" The War Gundam chuckled, and freed itself from the God Gundams grasp. Dashing backwards, it hurriedly fired a volley of bullets at Domon, praying the sheer number of projectiles would get through.

Wrong.

The God Gundam didn't even appear to move, such was its blinding speed. When all of the bullets should have hit, Domon chuckled and showed the War Gundam its hand. In-between each finger was a bullet. This brought back fond memories for Domon, that of his first fight in Neo-Italy. But, that was twenty years ago, and now he was on a mission far more serious, one of world peace.

"Hey Domon, leave some of this guy for us, huh?" Chibodee called out. The rest of the Shuffle Alliance were inspecting the fallen fighters, whom the War Gundam defeated moments prior.

"Whu? Whossis?" Mark shook his head, slowly regaining consciousness. He felt pretty dumb. One hit was all it took to take him out of the fight.

"Hey, Neo-England! We meet again!" Chibodee laughed. "What are the odds, huh?"

"I'm sorry?" Mark's vision was still blurry, and he didn't recognise any of the funny coloured shapes around him.

"Heh, only a few months ago…you really can't remember the 'champ'?"

"Wha?" Mark shot up suddenly. "You? Chibodee Crockett?" He could scarcely believe his eyes. That drunk back in Neo-America was a member of the Shuffle Alliance?

"It's good to see you again, kid! Thanks for beating that Jack McFarlane, by the way." Chibodee helped him to his feet, and smiled. The others were slowly starting to come around.

"King George? What are you doing here?" Jean-Luc asked, as George helped him up.

"Shortly after you left, my shuffle crest began to glow, indicating that something was happening. It would appear this was it." George looked over to the standoff between the God Gundam and the War Gundam. "We do not yet know who or what this Gundam is, but we'll find out."

"Sai Saici! These two are waking up now," called Argo. He was carrying both the Pope Gundam and the Gundam Eidolon.

"Great job, old man! I think this guy's coming around too," he responded. Argo laughed at this reply.

"I'm still an old man, am I? It's good to see your role as the top Shaolin monk hasn't changed you too much."

"You know it! Hey, how's Nastasha? Life in the space defence corps suiting her?"

"If you could stop with the small talk for a second, I would like to be put down now." Vlad's thick, oily voice remarked.

"A simple 'thank you' would suffice, friend," replied Argo, as he put the Eidolon Gundam down.

"So, the great Shuffle Alliance, hm? What brings you here?"

"The War Gundam. Whatever its goal, it's a serious enough threat to make our shuffle crests warn us."

"Alright, how come I've attracted even the great Shuffle Alliance? I'd have thought that I'm small potatoes!" The War Gundam and God Gundam were still clashing, currently duelling with beam sabres.

"I don't know, you randomly attack a group of Gundam Fighters, attempt to destroy a city, you tell me why you're not a threat!" Domon roared in response, and leapt back. A glowing circle of power formed on its back, and he raised his fist. "This hand of mine is burning red! Its loud roar tells me to defeat you!"

"Oh shit," thought the War Gundam.

"Here I go! Bakanetsu God Finger!" The God Gundam reached forward, and grabbed the War Gundam's head. The immense heat emanating from its hand caused the head to start over-heating wildly. "Heat End!" With this final strike, the War Gundam stumbled back, and the head finally exploded. It fell to the ground, the only noise being a loud moan from its pilot.

"Hey, Domon, I told you to leave some of it for us!" Chibodee joked. "Good job anyway."

"Thanks, Chibodee," Domon replied. "Now, let's get the pilot out and see what's going on."

Simon Peter shook his head as he finally regained his senses. His last memories were of seeing the War Gundam, and then his mind went blank. Now he found himself surrounded by the Shuffle Alliance, being carried on the back of the Bolt Gundam.

"What…what is this?" Simon Peter mumbled, to nobody in particular. Argo put the Pope Gundam onto its feet, and glanced at it inquisitively.

"Ah, you've woken up," Argo responded. "You're the Pope Gundam of Neo-Vatican, right?"

"Yes, but…are you really the Shuffle Alliance?" Argo grinned. His life as a space pirate meant he rarely received adulation, and this was a nice change from the screams. "I cannot believe this!" Simon Peter laughed in joy. "Providence has led us all here for a certain purpose…"

"I'm afraid I have no idea what you're talking about," Argo replied. "We should help Domon and the rest. Come on." Vlad, who was standing nearby, turned to Simon Peter.

"Maybe you'll explain to me what you were babbling about."

"Don't you see? I was brought here at this time so I could meet the Shuffle Alliance! They will definitely help liberate Neo-Israel!"

"Of course." Vlad curtly responded, and followed Argo to the crashed War Gundam. Everybody save these three had gathered there.

"Domon, any luck on the pilot?" George knelt down, to take a closer look at the fallen Gundam.

"Nope. Its cockpit is something different from any other Gundam I've seen…" The God Gundam's fingers gently probed the surface of the Gundam, searching for anything that may yield a clue to its purpose. Suddenly, missiles fired from its various launchers, knocking back most of the fighters by surprise.

"Gotta thank the boss for giving me this radar," the War Gundam laughed. "I can see plain as day!"

"Damn it! I'm sick and tired of this," Mark growled. "You invade my home, attack my friends and you just won't die! I'm going to take you down for this, you monster!" The George's Cross roared into action, and Mark began to charge forward.

"Hold back, guys," Chibodee advised the Shuffle Alliance. "I wanna see how much he's improved…"

The Crusade Gundam, stampeding shield first towards the War Gundam managed to absorb most of the missile fire, and finally got within striking range. However, Mark's various attacks were all dodged with relative ease, accompanied by the War Gundam's mocking laughter.

"Mark, pull back," Vlad commanded. "Pope, use the Holy Stigmata on its legs. Jean-Luc, cover my movements with your missile fire. Bahari, use these distractions to pin the Gundam to the ground. I shall use my Heart-Breaker to finish it off."

"This guy's good," Sai Saici thought to himself. "I'm glad he wasn't in the 14th Gundam Fight…" He recalled his victory in the Final Battle, a much younger version of himself that triumphed over the rest of the Shuffle Alliance, (save an absent Domon Kashuu). Such strategic skill showed Vlad to be an expert Gundam Fighter, and Sai recognised this.

"I…do nothing?" Mark wearily thought, as he retreated. "It's my home he's attacking, yet I'm unable to protect it…what does that make me?"

"Holy Stigmata!" Simon Peter whispered a prayer as he hurled the glowing nails towards the War Gundam. His aim was deadly accurate, as they pierced its legs, effectively pinning it to the spot. Jean-Luc fired a barrage of missiles towards the ground, throwing up a massive dust cloud. Bahari used this as cover, and ran towards the War Gundam.

"Nice try," the War Gundam smirked. Bahari had run into two projectiles, each with enough force to tear an arm off. Luckily, they merely grazed him, but were still of sufficient strength to knock him back. Cursing, Vlad flew forward, covering himself in his wings, confident they would protect him. Mark quickly dragged the now-unconscious Bahari away from the battle, and tried to revive him.

"Forget him, Anderson! I need you when I am finished with this!" Vlad roared. The Gundam Eidolon raised its arm, and the hands formed into claws. "Kashuu System, activate!" The hand now shimmered with a crimson colour, and Vlad laughed, his voice now completely devoid of human emotion, possessed solely by a sanguine rage. "Heartbreaker, strike!" The claws slammed into the War Gundam with terrifying force, enough to tear it from the Holy Stigmata. The War Gundam's energy began to slowly seep into Gundam Eidolon, and the pilot screamed as he felt it happen to him as well. "Mark, tear this cockpit open. He can't escape now." Mark smiled, slightly relieved at the dissipation of his fears of rejection. He powered up the George's Cross, and ran forwards. He raised it in the air, ready to strike, when a blinding light surrounded the War Gundam.

"Heh…looks like my boss doesn't want me to die. See you later, losers." Once the light had vanished, the Gundam had disappeared. Mark looked up, and saw a massive hole had been burned into the barrier that had surrounded them previously. Clearly the escape route, Mark thought, but he was more concerned with how it had been destroyed in the first place.

"Pretty good," Argo commented. "It's good to see Gundam Fighters are no less skilled these days."

"You can say that again," Sai Saici remarked. "These guys know their moves."

"Well, one can expect that from Jean-Luc," said George, "considering that I trained him."

"Yeah, so how come you haven't won a Gundam Fight George?" Chibodee sniggered. George shot him a cold glare.

"There are things more important than winning, my dear Chibodee. I wouldn't expect you to understand, though."

"Ouch! I've been told!" Chibodee laughed. "Hey Domon! You're keeping quiet over there! What's up?" Domon didn't respond, and instead walked over to Vlad.

"Well, Domon Kashuu. Come to congratulate me on victory?"

"That attack you used, the Heartbreaker. You activated the 'Kashuu system'?"

"Ah yes, Neo-Romanian technology based around your late father's work." Domon stepped back in shock upon hearing this.

"What? That can't be!" Domon grabbed Vlad, clearly shaken by these words. "You can't use that attack anymore!"

"And why not?" Vlad brushed Domon's hands from his shoulders.

"Because my father's work stopped after F.C 60! You're using DG cells in your attack!" One of the three principles of DG cells, self-regeneration. This was clearly evident in Vlad's attack, in a slightly modified form.

"Is that right? Then why am I not a zombie?"

"How should I know? But you're in great danger! You have to stop it before you end up dead!"

"Listen. As great a man as your father was, the scientists of Neo-Romania have harnessed his works, and improved on them. Don't presume to lecture me on this."

"You arrogant bastard!" Domon grit his teeth, and punched Vlad square in the jaw. "Go ahead and kill yourself then. Don't expect me to pick up the pieces." He turned and walked away, while Vlad picked himself up, rubbing his jaw.

"Wait!" Simon Peter rushed to Domon.

"What is it?"

"I need your help. Neo-Israel is beset by a dictator, who is planning something terrible should he win…and it's very likely he will."

"I've heard of this. Alzhared, right?" Domon thought carefully. "He's been killing Gundam Fighters too, hasn't he?"

"How did you know…?"

"It all adds up now. I've been investigating the missing Gundam Fighters for a while now, and what you're saying makes sense. Don't worry; the Shuffle Alliance will stop this guy."

"Thank you. God be with you, King of Hearts." Simon Peter knelt, and kissed Domon's hand. Domon was somewhat unsure of what to make of this, but accepted it as a gesture of sincerity.

"Right, I'll be watching you, your holiness! Good luck in the Final Battle!" Domon dashed to the Shuffle Alliance, while Simon Peter looked on, and smiled.

"Don't worry, Talia. You will be freed soon, I'm sure of it."

"God damn him, but he's right…" Vlad spat out blood and Mark and Jean-Luc lifted him to his feet.

"What are you talking about, Vlad?" Jean-Luc asked.

"The DG cells are being in used in my Gundam…and all the Gundams of my country since F.C 70…when we bought the technology from Neo-Japan. It explains so much." He thought of General Ivan, and the Impaler Gundam. He was now using the same technology that nearly killed his wife.

"Vlad, you should probably listen to him. That Heartbreaker attack's good, but it's not worth risking your life over," Mark said. "Besides, what I've seen of your fights, you don't need it."

"Ha! Thank you, Mr. Anderson, but I am in no mood for levity." He shrugged off his helpers, and rubbed his jaw. "I will be leaving now. I need to think things over. I will see you in the Final Battle." Mark and Jean-Luc watched him leave, looking like a man defeated.

"This Gundam Fight's gotten a lot more interesting," Mark sighed. "What do you think of this War Gundam?"

"Honestly, Mark? This is no Gundam Fight, not any more." Jean-Luc looked at the sky. It still rained heavily.

"What is it then?"

"A Gundam built not for the Gundam Fight, but slaughter. An attack on five Gundams. This is war, Mark. That's all there is to it."


End file.
